Starting Over Again
by gally1
Summary: Clocking Off' fic set 5 years after the series 3 finale. Mack is tired of the relentless life he has made for himself since leaving Manchester. He decides to start again and a pin prick in a map points to the place he'll make that change. Please R/R. x
1. Another new horizon

**A/n: Thanks to Lucida Bright for giving me the green light to post this story of mine, I didn't want her to feel like I was stepping on anyone's toes and my muse is seriously not letting me think of anything else. I promise I won't neglect my A2A fic either; I'll try and write both alongside one another. This story set about 5 years after the series 3 finale of 'Clocking Off' when Mack flies off into the Spanish sunset after leaving his old life behind and embarking on a new one. Please read and review.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own anyone or anything, apart from those characters that are most definitely mine. Here's hoping ITV3 will keep on showing 'Clocking Off' for some time to come yet.**

**Chapter 1 – Another new horizon.**

James Mackintosh sat peacefully on the upper deck of his yacht, cold beer in hand, watching the yellow orange sun sink through the sky to meet the water just as day was physically about to turn into night. If he were lucky he'd still be awake to see the stars twinkle in the clear indigo sky but he doubted he would be. His latest trip from the east coast of Spain had taken him to some of the busiest resorts of that country and into those that belonged to France. He'd spent the last couple of nights in Cannes, living the high life, eating some of the best seafood the French Riviera had to offer, drinking to excess as he found himself night after night in some lively hostelry, bar or nightclub and sleeping it off with an enthusiastic local female or equally enthusiastic female holidaymaker of varying nationality.

And that had been his life, since that day he'd left Manchester, telling Miranda that it wasn't going to work between them and he was going to Majorca on his own. He'd moved from port to port leaving behind him girl after girl, never remembering for too long who they were or what they were called. He always played his cards close to his chest ensuring that he would come over as endearing waiting for some unsuspecting sap to want to mother him for 12 hours and give him what he felt he needed.

He sighed heavily, is this what it had all been about? Leaving the factory to his brother who, he'd later been told by his friend and solicitor Peter Cochran, had never taken up the challenge of running his own business and allowed the company to be taken over by another firm who were now attempting to run it. Selling that awful house that he'd never felt to be his home. Leaving behind the memory of a girlfriend, however unpleasant she actually was, and that of an equally unpleasant ex-wife and messy divorce. All he'd really wanted was to live his life a little without the worries of everyday life and eventually settle down, find a woman that wanted him for him and have a family with her. But with every passing day it was becoming more and more difficult. He'd hoped to have had everything in place before he turned 40 but as he was now approaching 43 he seemed lost to a life that he'd had a taste of with Tasha and he was unsure of how to get back to some kind of normality.

And that was why he had moored in Villefranche-sur-mer, a quiet modest seaside community that existed close to the vibrant city of Nice. He needed time to think; needed time to recuperate, needed to get himself back on track and a pin prick in a map had brought him here. He'd done what he'd set out to do, had lots of fun, doing the things that he should have done since leaving school and going straight into the family business having, he'd felt, no other choice but to take it on with the passing of his father. Now he'd had his fill and he was ready to go off in another direction; he was smart, he knew business and he still had plenty of money. But what was he going to do?

The pin had brought him here for a reason, of that he was sure, but he'd have to wait to find out what that reason was. Tomorrow he was going to see the harbourmaster and sort out a month's mooring, then he was going to use the rest of the day to get some supplies and familiarise himself with the town, hire a car if he needed to in order to explore the outer-lying area if he found it to be a little out of reach by foot. He'd find a local café, boucherie, patisserie, delicatessen and newsagent; he'd eat out for lunch and explore some of the shops in the afternoon, before ambling back to the boat and whiling away the evening hours with a bottle of local wine or some ice cold beers.

He got up from his seat, going over his usual checks before going below deck. Within minutes he was in his bed, alone for the first time for as long as he could remember, finding it difficult to drift off even with the gentle rocking motion of the boat on the water. He never usually had trouble but then he was usually exhausted or contented or both by the time he was ready to sleep. He got up, made himself some tea, went back up on deck and sat comfortably. By this time, the only lights that were visible were the main street lights, everything else being in darkness. Nothing stirred, his neighbours were all within their boats being quiet, no one seemed to be walking around in the streets, and a deadly hush surrounded the town and its harbour. It was a complete contrast to what he was used to.

He gently sipped the tepid liquid, hoping that his energy level would stoop to a low and allow him the much needed slumber that he so desperately wanted and needed. He saw something move out of the corner of his eye and surveyed the beach to his right, nothing, he must have imagined it. Another movement as he scanned again. In the distance he could see someone setting up an easel, they'd stopped momentarily to observe the scene in front of them and their sudden movements had been as a result of them adjusting the easel to a different angle. Suddenly a small light, like a torch, was illuminated; paints were being deposited on a palette and then applied to the canvas. Mack was intrigued, was it really normal for someone to bring out a canvas at this time in the morning, beginning to paint a night sky?

Quietly, he put on a jumper over the shorts set he'd been wearing to bed, found a pair of scruffy deck shoes and closed up his boat before walking the jetty and reaching dry land. His feet sunk into the soft sand as he made his way across the beach toward the light source, stopping suddenly as the person spoke in hushed tones, "Qui est là?" Whoever it was was female but what had she asked, he'd never been that good at French and it wasn't like he'd needed much of any language over the past few years, a few words learnt in any language and all of those women had all fallen at his feet. But then she couldn't even see his feet not that he could either. "Qui est là?" She repeated hesitantly, "who's there?"

She'd picked up the torch and shone it in his direction, shining it right into his eyes. His hands immediately went to his face shielding the bright white xenon glare, "Jesus, I'm a friend not a bloody foe!" He bit out; annoyed that she was still shining the light directly into his face.

"How the hell am I supposed to know, I don't even know who you are and as you're English and obviously on your own." The glare drifted down his torso, tracing his body, "and a holidaymaker," she scoffed.

"What difference does that bloody make? Besides I'm not a holidaymaker, I've been living on my boat for nearly 5 years."

"Mid life crisis, that figures." She let out a sarcastic laugh.

"Sorry?" He tried to make her out, moving forward in order to get his face above the glare of the torch.

"You're walking from the direction of the Marina in shorts, a jumper and deck shoes, there's no wedding ring and you don't speak a word of French, by your own admission you've lived on your boat for a while and spent 5 years sailing around the Med, picking up girls in every port I shouldn't wonder. So, mid life crisis!" She exclaimed.

He had to admit, she wasn't far wrong, but would he have called it that? Yes, if anyone he'd known had done what he had done then he knew he would have said they were going through the same, "well, I'm not after taking _you_ to my bed."

"Thanks very much!" Was that a huff he'd just witnessed? "Not that I'm surprised, not like I'm stick thin with loads of lovely long luscious blonde hair."

"I couldn't tell you, I've been blinded by that damn torch light of yours. Not sure if my eyesight is ever going to recover from that." He inched closer. She lowered the light back to its place on top of her bag.

"Sorry, its just I'm not used to company when I paint and you surprised me, put me on tenterhooks. Besides, when you do get your eyesight back you'll wish you'd stayed blind."

"What?" He asked, wondering how bad this vision in front of him was going to be when it appeared. "You can't be that bad." He walked closer to her, a figure beginning to materialize as his eyes readjusted. From the way she'd carried on he'd been expecting some Shrek like figure only painting after dark because she knew she'd be left alone, but what he eventually saw was unexpected. Had Rembrandt still been alive Mack believed the artist would have used her as a model, he likened her toward a classical female figure. She was right, she wasn't thin but she wasn't fat either and although her face was fuller than most women he'd dated, she was still beautiful even in the glow of the orange light. Her eyes were dark and large, her lips full and her shoulder length dark hair framed her head. She certainly wasn't the type of woman he normally went for but then none of them had ever been stayer's, had they? He stepped in closer and turned toward the canvas, his grey eyes surveying her work. "What medium are you using, oil is it?"

"Yes. I've been at this sky for 5 nights now and still I'm nowhere near happy with it."

"I think it's beautiful." Mack said with meaning, from what he could see she'd captured it perfectly.

"You're just saying that."

"No, I'm not. I might not know much about art but I know what I like and I like this. Are you always so critical of yourself?"

"Yes," she returned determinedly. "Always, I'm my own worst enemy." She put down the palette and lent forward, Mack catching a whiff of her perfume as her actions caused her to pass closely by him. She tore the canvas from the easel and extended the painting to him. "It's yours! If I still know you in 12 months then maybe you'll let me finish it off."

"I couldn't," she nodded her head her eyebrows knitted together with frustration, of course he could. "At least let me pay you for it."

She put up her hands, "it's yours, and I don't want anything for it."

"Let me take you sailing then." He flashed her a warm smile.

She shook her head, "No way. I want nothing; just promise me you'll look after it."

"Ok, but on one condition."

"Yes?"

"You'll finish it off some time."

She merely nodded. She began putting her stuff back together as he slowly walked away from her. He stopped, "what's your name?"

"Why?" She asked impatiently.

"You haven't signed it yet and I'd like to know who the artist is?"

"Oh, it's Sophie."

"Thanks, Sophie," he went to walk away again but stopped and turned back, "I'm …" But she'd gone, fleeing back to wherever it was she'd appeared from earlier. He shrugged his shoulders still holding onto his prize before turning back toward the harbour. He was soon back on his boat trying to stifle his yawns as he carefully placed the painting onto one of the bench seats. He thought back over the impromptu meeting with the painter and decided that there was only one place he could hang it. 'Another job for tomorrow,' he thought. He pulled off his shoes and jumper, leaving them in a pile on the floor of the main living area before finding his way into his cabin and crawling under the covers. Sleep came quickly and dreaming too, he was sure that Sophie had something to do with his reason for being in Villefranche-sur-mer; he only hoped he would find out why and soon.

He awoke to the bright warming sunshine as it filtered through the tiny porthole. A smile traced his lips as his first thoughts were of the mysterious Sophie and his early morning encounter with her on the beach. He would make finding her another one of his jobs, maybe they could become friends. He certainly didn't imagine anything else could happen between them, her condescension of his lifestyle would put pay to that, but wasn't he supposed to be stopping all of that in favour of a more normal relationship with that special someone?

He looked through what supplies he had left, there wasn't much and he only hoped they had some kind of English shop in Villefranche-sur-mer where he could buy tea and marmalade, the thought of having to get that sent over from Blightly by Peter signalling a big NO in his head. It hadn't quite worked out as planned before, the marmalade jar breaking mid shipping and spilling its contents all over the already open box of tea bags. He decided to get breakfast in a local café and then go and speak to M. Renard, the harbourmaster.

By 2.30 pm Mack had finished his list of jobs, including hanging the painting in pride of place over his bed. He'd even managed to find a launderette that did service washes. As he walked through the shaded thoroughfares of the town he found the small shopping centre that he'd been directed to by the café owner he'd spoken to whilst having lunch. He'd asked the middle aged man behind the bar about Sophie but had received nothing more than a grunt and a 'that mad English woman?' for his trouble. When his meal had arrived the man's wife had whispered to him that there was a gallery in the new shopping centre that specialised in landscapes and that Mack might have better luck there.

He ambled around finally spotting the gallery in the furthest corner of the square. He made his way around the tables and chairs that were positioned in the middle of the arcade to where the shop was situated and looked in through the window, various sized canvas's displaying richly coloured scenes of poppy, sunflower and lavender fields caught his eye and he took a closer look at the signature in the corner – S Walker. 'S Walker,' he mused, 'Sophie Walker?' Could it be her?

He stepped through the door, the bell that was attached to it ringing and signalling his arrival over the threshold. A willowy man with black hair and olive skin stood in the corner of the gallery talking to someone in French on the telephone; he turned to greet Mack and signalled for him to take a seat whilst he finished his conversation. "Bonjour, monsieur. Peux je vous aide?"

Mack shook his head, "Anglais? I'm English," he shrugged, "sorry." Offering his hand to the younger man.

"Oui, monsieur. Of course, how can I help?"

"I was wondering what you could tell me about the artist featured in your window."

"What does sir wish to know?"

"Well, are they local, do they live around here?"

"Ah, she is local, she has her studio here but she is not around at the moment."

"Really? It's just that I think I met her last night, on the beach. She gave me one of her paintings and I'd like to get in touch with her."

"She left for Provence last night; it can not be the same." His brows furrowed.

"She told me her name was Sophie." Mack continued.

The younger man nodded, "perhaps she did not go until this morning, and I am not her keeper. The artist of those paintings is Sophie, Sophie Walker. She is English, like you. And she gave you a painting?"

Mack nodded, "yes, a night sky she'd been working on for a little while. She didn't like it, gave it to me because I said I did."

"Then you have already won her over. She is very critical of herself but only wishes to make people happy with her painting. It doesn't pay her much but she sells well, getting a bit of a name for herself here on the Riviera."

"How much are those in the window?"

"They range from 135 to 160 Euros each. Would sir like to purchase any of them?"

'And she gave that one to me for free,' he thought. "Have you any other's?"

"Yes, of course. She is obviously a favourite, even after only knowing about her for 12 hours."

The sales assistant took him over to a spiral staircase, "her paintings occupy the first floor, and I'll be down here if you need anything."

"Thank you," he began climbing the stairs stopping on the third step. "Can I ask you something?" The man nodded, "how much commission do you take?"

"10 to 15 normally."

Mack nodded, climbing the rest of the stairs. Upon reaching the top step he walked out onto the mezzanine and began scanning the walls at the paintings. Most of them were landscapes similar to the ones in the window and when he looked at the price tags many were already sold. For some reason, his heart skipped a beat; maybe at the prospect that here he was, stood in front of the imaginings of a somewhat successful artist. Most of her paintings had been snapped up and she had obviously made her way back out into the countryside in order to paint more. "At least she can look after herself," he muttered.

He zigzagged through the partitions finding a couple that he liked and were unsold. One was of a vineyard, the rows of vines reaching up to the cream and white blocks of the house in the middle, a daytime view of the red coastline against the bright blue sea and finally a night time view of the harbour, the boats bobbing on the calm sea as the moon's reflection sparkled over the slowly moving ripples of the water. It was a perfect partner to the one he had already been given. He looked at the sticker, 185 Euros; he did a quick calculation, "about £145, not bad for the pair." He noted the number.

Finding his way back down the stairs he was quickly met by the sales assistant. "I'd like to purchase 367, please."

"Very good, sir. A nice choice for the one you already own, no?"

He nodded and grinned, "yes, when can I have it?"

"We normally keep them until Sophie comes back with replacements."

"And how long will that be?" He asked, filling out the form and handing over his credit card.

"She's never away longer than 7 weeks at a time."

"7 Weeks? Better go and organise some more time for my boat then? Whereabouts is she?"

"I'm sorry she never tells me but her brother may know."

"Her brother?"

"Yes, they were left a vineyard by their grandparents. The one in her paintings, actually. Her brother and his family look after it whilst she paints. I could give you the address, the vineyard itself is open to the public, they do wine tastings there and they put on activity holidays. I believe Sophie also does some painting master classes over the summer months too."

"That would be very helpful, thank you."

"My pleasure." He handed Mack a piece of paper with the address on. "Here are your documents and your credit card. It's a pleasure doing business with you."

Mack found his way back to the hire car and pulled out the road map he'd purchased. He knew that the satnav would get him so far but didn't dare trust it to take him all of the way. Scanning through the pages he realised that if he gave himself half an hour to pack a few things into a bag after retrieving his washing, he would be able to reach the address near Tavernes in a couple of hours, just in time for dinner.

He drove toward his destination attempting to keep his mind on driving on the wrong side of the road especially considering he was in a left hand drive car, but finding it hard as the km sailed by quickly, the breathtaking scenery kept expanding outward in front of him and he could think of nothing else but seeing those eyes again.

He finally reached the village and asked a young woman where the address was, she pointed in the general direction and kept saying "straight, straight." He continued along the narrow street, through the village of white and cream buildings eventually finding a cobbled track with a small sign, 'Chateau Collines Roses, Vigne pour l'échantillon de vin et classe principale de pienture de paysage. Gites disponibles – Vacances d'emploi.' He looked up toward the buildings on the hillside, those were definitely the ones in the paintings he'd seen earlier but should he go up. The clock on the dashboard read 6.54 pm and he wondered if he was pushing his luck or not, he looked back at the sign. He knew the word gites meant some kind of accommodation but he wasn't sure about the rest, if only he'd bought himself a dictionary for translations. But the last thing he was going to do was turn tail and head home, "here goes," he said to himself, turning the car into the drive and slowly taking the track up to the house.

He turned off the engine as he got to the house and was met by a young, slight, mousey haired woman with bright blue eyes that he assumed to be Sophie's sister in law. "Bonjour," she remarked.

"Bonjour, er, hi. You do speak English, don't you?"

She nodded. "Hello," she extended her hand out, "it's nice to finally have an Englishman visit our estate. Especially one from my neck of the woods, how is Manchester?"

"It was ok when I left it 5 years ago. Been busy sailing around since then. I was wondering if you had a gites I could hire."

"How long would you be staying?"

"I don't know, I'm interested in the painting classes. I've driven up from Villefranche-sur-mer; I saw Sophie's paintings in the window and got chatting to the man in the shop. He told me about the classes."

"Ah, Sophie isn't here at the moment but she will be back at the weekend. It's 300 Euros a week to include breakfast, either continental or full English or the best that we can do for one anyway, and that's in the farmhouse. Does that sound ok?" He merely nodded. "Good, well Mr …"

"Mr Mackintosh, James Mackintosh but most people call me Mack."

"Well, Mack, its nice to have you stay with us, if you just follow me into the farmhouse then we can sort out all the boring stuff and if you're hungry perhaps you would like to join us for dinner."

"I couldn't, that's not included in the price. I'll go and find somewhere in the village."

"Spending time with a northerner, Mack, will be enough payment indeed. Had too many southerners around me for far too long, I could do with a change of accent."

"Then it will be my pleasure. You said that Sophie wasn't here?"

"Yes, she's gone out into the lavender fields with her tent, probably won't see her till late Friday night, I'll introduce you to her when she arrives."

"Thanks, are you related?"

"I'm married to her brother, for my sins." She smiled, Mack returned it as he began filling in more forms and handing over his card once more. "But he has been generous and burdened me with our three adorable children who you'll meet when he brings them back with him, in …" she looked at her watch, "a few minutes I hope. Right, everything seems to be fine, I'll just show you to the gites and then you can come back for your dinner when you're ready."

She showed him up to the first floor gites, "one thing, you see the boxes in the windows?"

"Yes?"

"They have lavender in them; I keep them topped up regularly. If you like to keep your window open the lavender in the box wards off scorpions, so I'd suggest you don't move them."

"Great," he gulped, "do they ever get past?"

"Not if you keep the boxes in place," she warned. "See you for dinner."

He surveyed the studio apartment; it was clean and fresh looking. The original stonework of the outer walls was visible, whilst the inner walls were all brushed with magnolia paint, a black wrought iron bedstead stood in front of him, the crisp white sheets looked inviting and a canopy of a fine muslin type material hung from a central pivot of more wrought ironwork, which was then folded down behind the bed head. An old dark oak armoire stood in one corner with a matching chest of drawers close to it under the window. A grey silk covered chaise sat behind the bed and in front of that was another cupboard which he believed contained a television. In a small alcove to his right was an even smaller kitchenette, with only just enough room for him to make himself something to eat. He was glad he still had his purchased provisions with him.

To his left was an open doorway, he walked over switching on the light as he went through. The en-suite, tiled from floor to ceiling in grey, cream and white made it the perfect wet room, as he noticed a shower attachment mounted in the furthest corner of the room, but he was surprised at finding a free standing bath as well. He touched it, his hand creeping over the old enamel; he knew he'd be able to relax in it. It had seemed like forever since he'd had a bath as his boat only had room enough for a shower. He was going to enjoy spending time in that.

He unpacked, found his key that Sophie's sister in law had left on the side for him and retraced his steps back up to the farmhouse. He knocked on the door only to be greeted by a young girl with hair like her mothers and eyes like Sophie's, she smiled. "You must be Mack?"

"I am, and you are?" He asked, taking her small hand in his and kissing the back of it.

"I'm Madeleine." She smiled, "come in, dinner's ready." He followed her through to the large farmhouse kitchen. A prominent hardwood table stood in the middle of the room as Madeline and her sisters fussed over who was going to sit next to the strange ruggedly handsome Englishman that hadn't long arrived at the vineyard. He smiled to himself, "sit here, Mack." He complied with the little girls request as another sat to his right.

"I'm Camille, and I'm 6." Same hair but slightly wavy, no mistaking the eyes though.

"Hello Camille, I'm Mack. How old are you Madeline?"

"I'll be 9 next week." Well at least that meant Sophie would have to back soon; he didn't believe she was the kind of person to miss her niece's birthday.

He felt a tiny hand tug on the bottom of his t-shirt and he turned in his seat. "I'm Véronique."

Another matching sibling. "And how old are you?"

"I'm 3 and a half."

"Come on V," a man picked up the little girl effortlessly and placed her within the crook of his arm. He extended the other to Mack, "it seems you've been asking after my sister?" His face was steady as he surveyed the new addition to the table.

"Yes, I'd like to learn some new painting techniques," he lied, taking the hand and shaking it, "I'd also like to taste the wine you grow and I understand you do activity holidays here as well."

The man deposited his load on a chair opposite Mack before taking the head of the table. "Yes. Mack isn't it?" A smile replaced the scowl he'd worn earlier as he watched Mack silently affirm himself. "We do all sorts of activities here. I'm Steven Walker, welcome to my home." He too had the distinctive Walker eyes.

"Thanks," Mack smiled back, swaying slightly as he realised a plate was being put down in front of him, "this smells wonderful."

"You haven't tasted it yet." For that comment Steven earned himself a swipe of his wife's hand, and a round of giggles from the girls. He put his arm around the woman's hips and brought her too him, despite her protestations, "Jenny is many things but the best cook she is not. My grandmother even gave up trying to teach her because she could never get the hang of French home cooking." She managed to get away from him and sit by her youngest. "We only ever get a decent meal when Sophie stays home longer than a night," the girls cheered, "but that's very few and far between. However, I love my wife very much and would move heaven and earth to make sure she was always happy."

And he could see they were, for all their banter they were as much in love as he believed they had been on the day they'd got married. Mack felt guilty as a tinge of jealousy rose to the surface, why could he never experience just a small ounce of what they'd had. "So, no Mrs Mack?" Steven asked, invading his thoughts.

"Once, a long time ago, I loved her but she never loved me back. Just loved my money and position." The table fell silent, "never been anyone else really, until …"

"Until?" Jenny coaxed.

Mack shook his head and smiled, his eyes twinkling with the realisation that he wanted to be a part of all this. "I met this wonderful girl last night, on the beach. Not stunningly beautiful or thin or anything I would normally go for in a partner but she was honest, charming, pretty and I need to know more about her."

"So what are you doing here then?" Steven asked, "shouldn't you be finding out about her, where she lives, what she does for a living, etc, etc." Mack looked over to him and then over to Jenny, he dropped his gaze as she seemed to understand his meaning. In his state of nervousness he pushed some of the food around on his plate trying to decide what to eat first.

"He is." Jenny remarked, noticing Mack's head shooting up in surprise at her words and softening toward her as she smiled warmly at him.

"What do you mean?" Steven asked.

Jenny looked to her husband, "I'll tell you later. So Mack what brought you to France in the first place?"

.oOo.

Several hours later, Mack found himself wandering to his gites. He realised he'd had a little too much wine as he giddily transcended the steps up to the front door and holding onto the railing wasn't doing much for him either. When he finally managed to get the key into the lock, he traversed unsteadily into the room and stumbled across the floor, kicking the door closed as he went. He crashed out diagonally across the sheets, his head barely reaching a pillow. The shoes came off with a thud as he pushed them off at the ankle with his toes, eventually managing to turn over onto his back.

His eyelids slid closed as he heard the calls and cries of Southern France's nocturnal wildlife, their constant subtle noises coaxing him further into a state of sleep. Everywhere he'd been tonight he'd seen her eyes, in the faces of her nieces and of her brother, in the photos and pictures that adorned the walls of her and her family and now in his own minds eye. Big, beautiful, smoulderingly dark, almond-shaped eyes that he knew he was going to drown in. He visualised a kiss, only stopping to pull back and look into them once more before returning to love her physically. How was it that someone like Sophie could've touched him so much in such a short space of time? Not that he really cared; he only hoped that he would get the chance to win this most worthy of all prizes.


	2. Making friends

**A/n: Thanks for the reviews to start me off and I hope you all enjoy this next bit. I'm gonna do some more chapters on this if I'm not getting too waylaid with things that are happening over at TRA, (ladies you know who you are); their own intriguing stories are stopping me from carrying on with mine at the mo. Rating will probably have to go up in the next couple of chapters when I write in some Adult Content, will let you know when. Please read and review.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own anyone or anything, apart from those characters that are most definitely mine. Here's hoping ITV3 will keep on showing 'Clocking Off' for some time to come yet.**

**Chapter 2 – Making friends.**

Mack shot up in bed at the sound of the early morning alarm call; a cockerel perched out of sight bellowed his crow to awake half of the surrounding area. Picking his watch up from the bedside table he looked at it, his eyes taking a time to adjust to the light before clearly being able to see that the delicate black hands read 6.30 am. He put the watch back down where he had plucked it from and rubbed his hands over his face and into his hair. Fresh stubble on his chin demanded he take care of it as he unceremoniously clambered from the soft downy coverings of the bed and into the gentle warmth of the en suite as the early morning sun trickled its temperate rays over the clay roof.

Opening the taps up on the bath, he checked the temperature and adjusted it adding some of the bath essence that had been left by the sink. Now seemed like the perfect time to have a relaxing soak. He pulled a chair over to the bath and placed his shaving kit on it, along with the other toiletries he was going to need.

The scent of citrus fruits wafted up from the water as he stripped himself of his boxer shorts and stepped into the infusion of water and soap. The bubbles rested against his exposed waist and knees as he let a little more water run into the bath before turning the taps off. His body sank back, his head resting against his folded face cloth as he moulded himself to the shape of the tub. He could still hear the cock's crow as he began to wash himself, enjoying the feel of the lather and the sluice of water as he became the cleanest he had felt for a while; it was always strange how a bath seemed to rid him of his woes.

Feeling a sense of renewal after his soak and wash, Mack got out and began dressing. Out came the khaki shorts, going commando as it was too hot for layers. He also opted for a white t-shirt and his boat shoes. He splashed on some after shave, checked his reflection to make sure he was presentable and left the gites; walking up to the farmhouse trying to decide what breakfast was going to consist of.

The door was ajar and he stepped in, knocking and calling out. "Hello, is anyone around?"

"Come on through," came the now familiar voice of Jenny. He threaded his way up the hallway and found himself, once more, in the inviting kitchen that seemed to serve as dining and entertainment room as well. "Good morning, everything ok in your gites? Did you sleep well?"

He nodded, "yes thanks, apart from the bloody cockerel."

"Mmm, should've warned you, it's from a neighbouring farm but its crow is particularly loud. We've all got used to it now." She shrugged.

"You're up early though?"

"Always am, not much of a night owl, much prefer to be up with the sunshine. Besides we have to work around the heat. We can't go out for up to 4 hours from about 12, much too hot. For us and the vines."

"Oh, right." He sat down in the same spot he had occupied for dinner, glancing over the plates of meats, cheeses, bread and pastries.

"Wasn't sure whether you'd want a cooked breakfast of not?"

"No, this looks fine. It's not all for me is it?" He grinned at his joke.

"Waiting for Steve to come back with the milk, he's taken the girls with him so they'll be bringing back some eggs." And, as if on cue, they tumbled through the back door, Steven with a covered milk churn and Madeline holding a basket full to the brim with eggs of varying sizes. "Tuck in," Jenny gestured, sitting herself down and diving into the food she'd previously laid out. "Coffee in the pot, Mack."

He thanked her with a smile and filled his mug with the steaming liquid; he poured in some milk from a netted jug and added two teaspoons of sugar. He sipped at it, the liquid still hot enough to burn the tip of his tongue but he relished the taste as normality started to come back to his senses with the injection of caffeine into his bloodstream. He began piling his plate with the assortment in front of him, chewing at the unusual combination of savoury and sweet delights that you couldn't get from an English breakfast. He chatted freely with the family, feeling like he was a part of it and not an outsider looking in.

"What are your plans for today, Mack?" Steven asked him as he took a bite from the Pain Aux Raisins he had in his hand.

"I don't really know, what are you up to?" He enquired.

"We've all got work to do with the vines; you could help us if you like?"

He nodded. Yes, he would like that; he was never adverse to learning new skills even if he was never going to use them again. "I'd love to."

Steven got up from his seat. "Just going to get changed," he said, "come on girls, you all need to get washed up." Steven banged his way up the stairs, his family following him, leaving Mack alone with Jenny once more.

Mack got up and helped Jenny clean up the breakfast things, handing her the dirty crockery as she filled the sink to wash them. "Did you mention anything to Steven about last night?" A hesitant Mack asked, taking a towel and drying the plates that were left to drain.

"About what?" Jenny teased, noticing the uncertainty upon Mack's face. She smiled, "yes, only briefly though. I just told him that you seemed to have a crush on his sister."

His eyebrows rose. A crush, it was much more than that but he wasn't about to let them all know what he was thinking. "What did he say? Is he baying for my blood?"

"If he was, that cock wouldn't have been the first thing to wake you up this morning?" They both laughed before Mack fell silent again. "He's fine with it as long as you treat her with respect."

"I don't intend to do otherwise. Mind you, I do believe that I may have come up here with a false hope, she's not exactly enthralled with me or my lifestyle. She thinks I'm going through a bit of a mid-life crisis."

"Does she now?" She paused. "Are you?"

He looked away, embarrassed by 5 years worth of crisis. "I suppose I was, really. Had to find my way, knew I found myself in Villefranche-sur-mer for a reason, and never expected it to be because of a woman and a remarkable one at that."

"How long have you known her?" She pulled at the plug, rinsing out the sink when the last of the dirty water had vanished.

"Since very early yesterday morning, she was painting on the beach. I introduced myself to her by frightening her." Jenny stopped what she was doing, "don't worry, she blinded me with her torch." He sniggered at the memory, "she kept on protesting that she was nothing to look at but of course I couldn't tell her one way or the other as she was still blinding me with her bloody light."

"You don't believe her to be beautiful, do you?" It was more a statement than a question.

"I do, but her beauty's not conventional," Mack noticed she looked puzzled, "I mean, I'm not attracted to her because she's trophy wife material. I can't get those lovely eyes of hers out of my head and her real beauty is here," he pointed at his heart, before laying his hand on his chest. "She's beautiful because of who she is not what she looks like."

"And you recognised this from what, a half hour conversation?" Jenny was slightly dubious leaning her slight frame against the white ceramic of the butler sink, her arms folded over her chest.

"Yes. God, I sound ridiculous don't I?" He put the towel back where he'd found it and handed the now dried pile of plates to her to put away.

"No, not as ridiculous as you might think. I met Steven at his University leaver's ball. I was there with my boyfriend at the time and I'd gone to the toilet. Anyway, to cut a long story short, I tripped coming out of the ladies, over this step which I hadn't realised was there and fell headlong into his backside. We both fell to the floor like dominoes, into a heap of satin, ruffles and fits of giggles. He helped me to stand and asked me to dance. Needless to say, I didn't go home with the boyfriend I'd arrived with and look what I have. We knew, from that very first moment we held each other, we were going to be together for the rest of our lives. And I don't think we've done badly. We argue, like most couples, but they're normally stupid arguments about stupid things, the making up is good. Camille was actually conceived as a result of one our disagreements." She hesitated, looking Mack straight in the eye. "Mack, this isn't a joke is it?"

"I don't know what you mean, Jenny?"

"This isn't some kind of game, a bet, just another conquest, is it?"

"No! Absolutely not!" Mack's anger was beginning to surface. "Why would you even think that?"

"Because you are a very handsome man, who is at a point in his life where he doesn't have to worry about anything. You told us last night that you've been sailing around the Med for 5 years, on what? You're obviously self sufficient. You have no partner to speak of and, from observations I made of things that were said after the kids went to bed, I feel you've been quite free with your 'love' recently. Sophie is not exactly worldly wise, when it comes to men. Don't get me wrong she's had relationships but none have ever lasted for very long and have all ended in disaster for her. She's put herself out there only to find out that he's been with her for a laugh, or wanted to get to the vineyard through her."

She continued. "And if that's the reason then you really are mistaken about any hidden wealth there may be. This vineyard hangs on as best it can every year, the wine is so-so and we get little from the sale of it. The place is mortgaged up to the hilt and money that Sophie earns from her paintings or the lessons, goes into the same pot as everything else in order to keep the family solvent."

"She gave me a painting." He mentioned.

"And that's your reason for finding her, her lovely eyes and a painting that she's given you?"

"No, yes. I don't know. Look, Jenny, there's something about that woman that I can't get out of my head. I'm not here to make a fool of her or try to prise her birthright away from her. She's probably the first woman 'ever' that hasn't thrown herself at me. In fact, she's treated me with nothing but contempt but I want to get to know her, find out about her life, enjoy spending some time with her and hopefully take my life in a different direction with her. She gave me that painting because I said I liked it, that was all and she said if she still knew me in 12 months she'd hope I'd allow her to finish it. That's what I want, Jenny, to allow her to finish it. If, after everything, she doesn't want to know me then fine, at least I can say I tried but I'm not going to live my life with anymore regrets, I've done that and that part of my life is over."

She held his anxious gaze. "Good luck then, you're going to need it. I've seen that woman turn from a confident, vibrant, spirited young lady with a happy go lucky nature into what she is today. Consequentially, she's very nervous around men, gives herself a hard time about her image and has very little self respect. She never feels worthy of a man's advances and will do anything in her power to have him turn against her so that she can then blame herself again for his leaving."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because, you've been telling me the truth and because your eyes betrayed your true feelings last night. You love her, Mack, you might not know it yet but you will. And, if there is the remotest chance that she'll accept you in the first place, then I've given you the information you need to continue on with your quest. You'll be good for her, both of you have had enough heartache to last you a lifetime, this is your chance to start over."

"Chance to start over what, mummy?" Came the question from the rosy cheeked face as it popped from around the corner of the door.

"Nothing to trouble you V, are you ready pumpkin?" The little girl nodded that she was. "Where are the others?"

"Waiting for daddy to get out of the bathroom."

"That sounds about right," she turned back to Mack, "we really need to get the en suite sorted out."

"Are you really that short on capital?"

Jenny nodded, "Steven wouldn't thank me for saying it, nor would Sophie come to think of it, but this place is old and needs a lot of money spending on it."

"Had a house like that once."

"Then you know what it's like, you fix one thing something else needs doing and in France you need the consent of the town mayor before you can change anything. So we do our best to keep him on side, invite him over a couple of times a year, and let him sample some of the produce. Our problem is that a couple of years ago we had a fire which took out half the crop, we are just beginning to get back on our feet but it's taken so long."

"Who do you sell to?"

"Anyone that will buy from us," Steven said upon re-entering the kitchen. "Our wine isn't as good as it should be because we're having to wait for one variety of grape to 'catch up', in growing terms." He scowled at his wife.

"Sorry, Steven." Jenny knew she'd let her husband down by talking about their problems with a relative stranger.

"It's ok, love. I've asked so much of you over the years, we should be riding high instead of penny pinching." He pulled her too him.

She smiled at him and lightly kissed his lips. "It doesn't matter; at least we are together, happy and healthy."

Mack shifted on his feet, uncomfortable at the display of affection that was going on in front of him. He waited for them to finish before asking, "how do you currently sell?"

"Local shops, pubs and restaurants; in some larger wine wholesalers and from the farm."

"So you don't currently sell over the internet?" Steven shook his head, "What about the holidays, the gites or your sister's painting weekends, how do you market them?"

"With the locals generally, word of mouth is the best form of recommendation."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but it's not when your family is starving and you're struggling to keep your head above water."

Steven became stern, "what the hell do you know about it?"

'More than you'd know,' Mack thought, "I took over the family business when my father died. I'd worked in the factory after leaving school, working through every section so I knew how the place operated. Then I very quickly became MD, taking over and expanding it until it was turning over several million pounds a year."

Jenny's face went white, her mouth dropping open. "Sorry, I just assumed …" Steven began.

"That I was a playboy doing what I pleased with daddy's money? I think that's what your sister believes too." Mack looked back at Jenny, his smile fading.

"What did the factory make?" Jenny asked, interested in where Mack had gained his knowledge from.

"Bedding, high end, good quality, expensive bed linen. Sold to the likes of the House of Fraser Group, Debenhams and M&S."

Steven and Jenny shared a look; if they were going to save the vineyard then gaining Mack's help might be the way to do it. "What do you know about the internet, then?" Steven asked.

Mack shook his head, smiling at the couple as the children played outside in the courtyard. "Not a bloody thing, but I know a man who does and he's good, very good. I can talk to him if you like?"

"That would be great. Thanks, Mack."

"No problem, now is there anyway I can help you out financially, with a loan or something?"

"Not yet, we'd have to ask Sophie about that anyway," Steven said.

"She'd be pretty pissed off if we went ahead with anything without getting her opinion." Jenny added.

Mack nodded, "of course, well let's leave that until she gets back then. So, what are you going to teach me about grapes and vines?"

"Nothing exciting, we're at the stage of training the vines and pinching out the tops. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Of course, lead on."

.oOo.

For the rest of the week Mack helped the family out as they continued their work along the rows. Steven explained in great depth to Mack about the different varieties of grape they grew, what the grapes harvested from the soil, what wines they made and even went on to tell him that things would be better when they could afford to hire a proper cellar master in order to produce better red and rosé wine varieties. Steven's knowledge was incomplete due to the untimely death of both his grandfather and the cellar master who had been hired by his grandfather. And Sophie knew even less than her brother.

Mack had spoken to his friend in Manchester and, after Mack's organisation of some kind of broadband connection, was able to bring up the ideas for the vineyards new website, along with its own shop and booking service for the gites on his laptop for the family to see. Steven and Jenny were impressed but agreed with Mack that the overall design would probably benefit from Sophie's artistic background. He also discussed with them ideas for promoting the activity holidays that they offered and they decided that the website should be in both French and English. Mack enlisted the help of another friend, who gladly set about the translation. By the time Friday evening approached the website was totally user friendly and fully functioning. They just needed Sophie's say so.

And as soon as Mack realised it was Friday evening, Mack's demeanour changed. He was no longer the relaxed, helpful man that had been infiltrated into Steven Walker's family, he was a man with a mission and that was to get the opportunity to speak with the alluring Sophie, tell her why he had sought her out, ask to spend time with her. His body tensed in anticipation of their meeting and as the evening wore on and her arrival was still not forthcoming, he wondered if he was ever going to get his chance.

Steven and Jenny were curled up on the sofa together lazily sipping their wine as they discussed Sophie's imminent arrival. She had phoned to let them know that she would be coming back tonight but asked that they didn't wait up for her. "It is usual for her to do that." Jenny mentioned looking over to Mack as he sat in the most comfortable armchair, stock rigid. His face had become firmly set, hoping that it wouldn't be too long before she finally arrived. "Look, Mack, why don't you take some wine with you and go to bed. She's obviously seen something she likes the look of and is painting it as we speak, isn't that right, Steve?"

"Sure, the slightest thing can get her buzzing if she feels she can use it. Don't be too hard on yourself, Mack, or worry too much; she'll be here before you know it. And, to be honest, you look knackered."

Mack nodded as he got up from his seat, "well, ok. I could do with getting some sleep. All this work you've been having me do has made me more tired than I ever thought I'd get."

"But you have enjoyed it?" Steven asked.

"Thoroughly, I've loved every minute so far, can't wait to help you sort out the cellar and the water irrigation. Maybe help out with some of the gardening and building work around here if I stay long enough." He smiled at his new friends, "right, well I'm off to bed. Thanks for everything."

"No, thank you." Steven replied, "if it wasn't for my wayward sister in the first place we would never have met. Whatever happens tomorrow, Mack, we'll not forget what you've done for us."

He smiled and nodded, picking up a bottle of the red as he wandered out of the house and across the courtyard to his gites. Where was she? He just hoped that she'd be there by the time he woke up and if that cockerel had anything to do with it, it would be early again.

After uncorking the wine he sat on the bed nursing a glass, allowing the moonlight to flood the room of its unearthly glow through the open windows. His eyes needed no further encouragement and he soon found himself drifting off after finishing the wine. "Please hurry home, Sophie. I need to see you." He let out a sigh as his body crumpled on top of the bed, his light snoring accompanying the sound of the wildlife outside his window.

.oOo.

The gentle sound of tyres against cobbles seemed to rouse Mack from his sleep, the dawn's half-light bathing everything in its greying tones as he looked out through the open windows trying to make sense of what he could hear. The light shuffle of feet that then began seemed to be walking toward his gites, an equally delicate foot alighting the steps and closing on his door. They tiptoed past, along the corridor and he finally heard the door at the far end of the corridor open and close as quietly as it could be. Whoever had walked past his door had obviously practiced at keeping quiet, and he wondered if it was Sophie, finally arriving home.

He turned back to the pillow and away from the light source, hoping that sleep would take him quickly. Images of her face came to him again and he closed his eyes in anticipation of his response to her memory, it was almost as if she was lulling him back into slumber like the delicate tones of lullaby. The last thing he remembered was her laughing face as he chased her through the rows of vines and lavender hoping to finally catch her in his arms and make love to her beneath the early evening sun.


	3. Getting to know you

**A/n: If you're lucky they'll be two instalments today. Thank you for the kind reviews and yes Mack will be happy eventually but there is going to be some turmoil for him along the way. Couldn't make it that easy for him could I? Please read and review.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own anyone or anything, apart from those characters that are most definitely mine.**

**Chapter 3 – Getting to know you.**

Another early cock crow had seen Mack jump from his bed, only to close his windows and climb back under the luscious duvet. He was far too tired to get up early again and he hadn't slept well at all. Putting the pillow and then the duvet over his head he banged his hands down around the sides of his skull trying to drown out any noises that his ears were picking up. Somewhere a door slammed and he shot back up, wasn't that the door that had ever so quietly been opened earlier on in the morning whilst the sun was still climbing up from Australia.

He crawled out of bed and quickly made for his door, pressing his ear against the wood and listening for any signs of movement. If there had been any then it was now still once more, but he could feel his heart doing double time in his chest almost as if it was trying to escape the confines of his ribs and burst through the taught tanned skin. He looked back toward the bed, it looked so inviting to him but he couldn't bring himself to climb in again. He had to see if Sophie had arrived.

He opened the door to the Armoire looking inside, there wasn't much as most of the clothing he had brought with him had found its way into the Walker washing basket. Jenny had offered and there was no way he was going to refuse her kindness. "For services rendered," she had said, taking the pile of dirty laundry from his arms and adding it to the never dwindling pile that was the family's. It was too hot for jeans, and most of his shirts weren't going to be that comfortable to work in. Pulling at the hangers they glided along the rail, Mack methodically deciding which of his clothes were right for his employment. He began to wish he'd brought more with him.

He pulled out a pair of dark brown cropped combats and found a loose fitting cream short sleeved shirt to accompany them. He found his dark brown leather trainers and decided that that would do him for today until he got his washing back anyway. Hanging the garments on the back of the bathroom door he made his way for the shower, sliding under the hot spray and allowing the needle fine water to clear his pores as it tried to penetrate his skin. He quickly towelled himself dry and hung the towel around his waist as he finished his grooming over the sink. After pulling on his clothes, he made his way up to the farmhouse, pushing a hand through his rapidly drying hair.

As he walked through the door, the smell of toast, cooked ham and cheese invaded his nostrils. Whatever was being cooked up for breakfast had him salivating, he only hoped it was worth the wait.

"Uncle Jimmy!" V screamed as she noticed him from the top of the stairs, she ran down half of them and flung herself from the step into his waiting arms bringing the youngest Walker child into his embrace when he had her full weight.

"Who is uncle Jimmy, V? Another of your imaginary friends?" A female voice rang out from the kitchen. It certainly wasn't Jenny's.

"He's not imaginary," V shouted, "he's very real, aren't you?" She asked him, he nodded mutely.

"Come on, V. You don't have an uncle Jimmy. Stop messing about and come and get your breakfast." It was her, it had to be.

"Ok, Sophie, I'm coming." His heart skipped a beat at the mere mention of her name so he began the walk up the hallway and into the kitchen with Véronique still in his arms. He stopped suddenly, staring at the back of the figure that was cooking at the stove, her long dark hair caught in a ribbon at the nape of her neck. She was humming to herself as she continued with her task.

"Are the other's up?"

"Yes, Sophie."

"Are they coming down?"

"Yes, soon. Daddy's in the bathroom again."

"Oh, I see," she turned around to place the serving plate onto the table, obviously looking around for her niece. She noticed his legs and travelled the length of his body, passing over the child's form as she continued higher. Her hazel orbs met his steely grey, opening wide like a rabbit caught in headlights when she realised who it was. "What are you doing here?"

"You know uncle Jimmy already?"

"Yes, poppet, I do." She crossed the distance between them, holding out her arms to take hold of the child but V resisted. Her tiny fingers pressed into Mack's neck, holding on for dear life. Mack continued to cradle her hoping that the pain would end soon but V was not to be prised away by her aunt. Sophie gave in; defeat swept her face as she retreated back to the stove.

Mack wanted to go to her, put his arms around her, and tell her that everything was ok but he knew that he couldn't. "V, go and cuddle your aunt." He whispered, putting the girl down on the ground and coaxing her. She obeyed, running around the table and grabbing onto Sophie's leg. Sophie looked down, a watery gaze swept back to look at him momentarily as she put her hand on top of V's head and stroked through her soft hair. He smiled back, before taking a seat and pouring himself a cup of coffee.

Steven strode into the room, walking around to Sophie and placing a kiss on top of her head. "Didn't I tell you, Mack? The only time we eat anything decent in this house is when my sister decides to grace us with her presence." Her elbow met with one of his ribs and Mack laughed at the sight. Steven sat in his normal place and picked up a sandwich. "Dig in, Mack."

"If you don't mind me asking, what are they?" Mack asked, looking at the pile of toasties.

"Croquet Monsieur! My favourite." Steven replied and then realised what Mack had been asking, "oh, they've got ham and cheese inside. Delicious."

"I'm going to milk, Fleur." Sophie bit out nonchalantly.

"I've done it already." Steven returned, his attention going back to Mack immediately, "aren't they delicious?"

"Yeah, they're great," Mack replied, biting into a half of sandwich and nearly burning his tongue in the process. "Really delicious."

"I'll go and bring the eggs in then." Sophie suggested.

"Girls did that earlier, sit down and have something to eat." Steven said, exasperation in his voice.

"I've eaten," she lied, the last thing she wanted to do was sit at a table with a man she hardly knew. "And since when has it become customary for the guests to infiltrate their way into our family?"

"Since this guest helped us out with the vineyard, in more ways than one." Steven's anger was rising.

"Pardon me for asking. And don't we normally charge guests to stay?" She leant herself against the back of a kitchen chair, her eyes wild as she stared at her sibling. Understanding that Steven was going to answer she turned on her heel, walked out the back door and into the yard.

"Sophie," Steven tried, his wife now joining the assembled mass in the kitchen.

"What did you say to her?" Jenny enquired of him.

"She was asking about Mack's relationship with the family. I don't think she knows how to deal with it."

Mack interrupted, "I'm sorry I've put you in this position." He got up and began walking back down the hall.

"Mack, where do you think you're going?" Jenny asked, "at the beginning of the week you were telling me that you weren't going to live your life with any regrets. You'll regret it if you walk out that door."

He turned back to her, "I have no intention of walking away, I just want to give you all some space. I'll have my meals in the gites from now on."

"No, you won't," Jenny replied, pushing Steven back into his seat as he made to go out after his sister. "I'll go and speak to her, make her realise what you've already done for us. Hopefully she'll come around in a bit and we can start again." She picked up a couple of sandwiches and followed after Sophie.

"Women," Steven remarked, "every time you think you've hit the nail on the head they come back at you with something else."

Mack sat back down and stared into his coffee. "Steven, you know her better than anyone, and I hope I'm not being disrespectful but," Mack looked over to him before continuing, "do you think she likes me?"

"Likes you, I'd say she's planning your wedding."

.oOo.

Jenny rushed up the hill and into the olive grove, knowing exactly where to find Sophie. As she spotted her sister in law's form she made her way over and took a seat next to her. She held out one of the sandwiches which Sophie gratefully took and began to devour. "What's up, Sophie?"

"Nothing."

"Come on, I heard most of what was said."

Sophie eyed Jenny, "it's him."

"Who, Mack?" Sophie nodded, "what about him? Has he hurt you or something?"

Sophie shook her head. "I gave him one of my paintings, I didn't actually think I'd see him again, some wide boy from god knows where."

"You should get to know him."

"I don't want to."

"At all?"

"At all."

"Sophie, he's not actually the kind of man you expect him to be, once you get to know him."

"And you and Steve know him now then. He could be an axe murderer for all you know."

"Sophie. He's nothing of the sort. He's done more for us than you could dare to imagine."

"What's he after?"

'For some strange reason, you,' she thought, "he actually came up here to join one of your classes."

"Why?"

"How the hell do I know, if you want to know that you'll have to ask him yourself."

Again Sophie felt defeated; there was something about this man that her family adored. "What has he done for us?" She asked quietly.

"He's been helping out in the vineyard and the cellar, a friend of his has set up a website for us and another has translated it."

"Why would he do that?"

"Because he realised we needed help. That man may not be your idea of perfection, Sophie, but his heart is certainly in the right place. He's stopped at nothing to help out and the kids love him. He's even offered to lend us some money to help us get the vineyard back up on its feet."

"He wants to own us."

"What? Why?"

"I don't know?"

"Sophie, he's a business man. For all I know he's come here to help you get your paintings seen by wealthy people. He obviously knows a few. And when he saw the problems the vineyard was facing he offered to help out. Why, I don't know and if you want that question answered you'll have to ask him."

Jenny got up from her seat and began to walk away. "Jenny?"

"Yeah."

"Do you think he's here because of the painting or because of me?"

Jenny shrugged, "I'd say you. But again that's something you're going to have to find out from him."

She turned and walked down the hill, Sophie following her retreating form. "Best be nice to the only paying guest we've had in two months then, hadn't I?"

.oOo.

Sophie found Mack in the garden, digging and de-weeding over a plot that had once been her grandfather's vegetable plot. He'd taken his shirt off, his muscles rippling beneath his golden skin as he carried on with his task. She swallowed, scolding herself for allowing the sight of him to take her breath away. Managing to keep control, she made her way over to him and sat down on the steps watching him, like she'd done when her grandfather was still alive. He straightened up as soon as he noticed her; unaware of the effect he was having on her insides as they churned away. "I've come to apologise."

He drew the back of his hand over his brow, wiping away the sweat, "no apology needed. I'm sorry that my presence is so unwelcome to you."

"Not unwelcome, just unexpected." He gave her a curt nod as he continued with his toil. "This used to be my grandfather's vegetable patch."

"And it will be again. I'm just digging over it so that the girls can help me plant it up tomorrow."

"They seem to adore you."

"Adore may be too strong a word, they like me though. Unlike their aunt."

"I don't dislike you."

He stopped again, leaning against the fork as it stuck fast in the clay soil. "So what is it then, Sophie?"

Her mouth opened and closed like a goldfish trying to think of the right thing to say. Finally, she settled on something that she thought would work. "Can we start afresh?" His glare softened. She got up, leaned over and stuck her hand out to him, "Hi, I'm Sophie Walker, it's a pleasure to meet you."

He took her hand in his, delighting in how it felt with his fingers wrapped around it. "James Mackintosh, Mack to my friends and the pleasure is all mine." He stepped toward her, drawing her hand to his mouth and placing a delicate kiss upon her knuckles.

She'd have collapsed had it not been for the fact that Mack was still holding onto her. "And what do you do for a living, Mack?"

"I used to own a factory."

"Used to?"

"It's a long story, far too boring. How about you?"

"I paint and I teach people to paint landscapes and still life's."

"That's interesting; I came here for a master class in painting and haven't had a lesson yet."

"I'm sorry about that, I must ask the booking clerk why she didn't tell me," it was easy to tease him, she smiled up at him.

He returned it, still holding onto her hand, "yeah, sounds like they need reprimanding," he countered.

She bit her bottom lip, "do you still have the painting I gave you?"

He nodded, "yes, I hung it over my bed."

Maybe she was reading too much into it but why on earth had he done that? She was about to ask when Camille came bounding into the enclosed garden. "Sophie, mum wants your washing."

"Ok, Cam, I'll be there in a minute," she looked over at Mack, "I'm sorry, I have to go and do this."

"Fine, just hurry back when you can. I need those lessons I've paid for." She skipped from the yard, how the looks from that one man could make her feel so alive and vibrant. She glanced back just as she was walking under the arch and realised that his eyes were still on her. Well, if that didn't answer one of her questions then she'd been out of the game far too long. He was there because he liked her, and she had the feeling that she could possibly like him in return. The point was, did she want to?

.oOo.

Dinner had been pleasant; Sophie had taken a short drive down to the coast and bought mussels for them all. She'd cooked a traditional Moules Mariniere with plenty of crusty French bread to dip in the creamy garlic sauce. The meal was scrumptious and the conversation charming as the extended Walker family carried on as if the rift at the breakfast table hadn't even happened. Mack had been surprised to find that the girls had sat him next to Sophie but it allowed for the two to have brief interludes away from the main family dialogue.

After dinner, Sophie had insisted that Mack show her the designs for the website and, after punishing the site with her relentless attempts to crash it, decided that it was actually a good tool in order for them to move the business forward, the French translation was excellent in her opinion and she agreed to come up with some designs to make the pages more appealing. Steven touched on the subject of money and Sophie approved of them taking a 20,000 Euro loan from Mack, providing that everything was set up properly and that Mack would agree to accept some interest on the money owed. A quick phone call to Peter Cochran and the wheels were set in motion.

Steven and Jenny retired to bed when they realised that they were both up far later than they ever normally were, leaving Sophie and Mack to discuss the finer points of painting and what Sophie had in mind for their first lesson.

"What have you actually been doing Mack, whilst you've been waiting for me to return?"

"I've helped out with the vines, training them and pinching them out. I've been bottling up some of last years produce, which reminds me. Don't know how you feel about it but I think the labels could do with an overhaul."

"They were my grandfather's design but I know what you mean they are a bit dated. I'll have a think and see what I can come up with but I think when we put the idea to Steven it should come from you, he seems to respond to you better, Mr Businessman of the Year."

"Not quite, Sophie. You wouldn't say that if you'd ever worked for me."

"Why not?"

"Because I couldn't stand people taking the piss out of me or the business. In fact, that place was like a noose around my neck. Not that I don't miss it."

"Would you do it again?"

"Truthfully?" He looked at her and began shaking his head, "yes, in a heart beat. I miss not having something to go to."

"You could always start over."

"Maybe, but I'd want to do things a bit differently. I mean, I'd want the same quality and sell to the same customers but I'd want to take it further, have some designer stuff that they'd want because they couldn't get it anywhere else."

"Haven't thought about it much, have you?"

"I've had plenty of time on my own on that boat. Even though I didn't spend many nights on my own I kept the days for me." He watched her cheeks tint with his statement. "Sorry, didn't mean to be so forthright."

"Why did you do it?"

"Have so many women?" She nodded. "I don't know really, because I could, because I didn't have anyone to answer to, because I didn't believe anyone could love me."

"And now?"

"I'm tired, Sophie. All I've ever wanted is to settle down and have a family, before I was 40 preferably. But that didn't happen; I had a beautiful wife that only loved me for my money and slept with god knows how many men behind my back. A girlfriend who treated me in much the same way, which I realised just a little too late after ridding myself of the factory and my home. Then there was Trudy."

"Trudy?"

"My right hand gal, knew everything about me and the business. She loved me but I didn't know, and when I did it was too late. Then she married Martin. God, I've made a pig's ear of my life."

"Everything happens for a reason, Mack, don't you think?"

He laughed, "so we learn from our mistakes, you mean?"

"Not necessarily, just that things happen because they are what takes you through life, until you find yourself in the right place, with the right person."

"If you don't mind me asking, how old are you?"

"I'm 35."

"Wow," he gulped back his surprise, "35 and you're still not with Mr Right."

"I'm happy as I am."

"No one is happy being alone, how ever much they tell you they are. I know, I've been there."

"But you're on your own now."

"Not really, not here."

"They're not your family, Mack."

"No, they're not but they are my friends, and I've been seriously lacking in them too."

"How old are you?"

"Too old." He noticed her shaking her head. "I'm 43, soon be 44 in August."

"You don't look a day over 38." She hid her face as she felt her cheeks hot up again.

"Well, I feel more like 78. Sophie?"

"Yeah?"

"Would you consider having dinner with this old fool?" Her face lifted up at his question, her eyes searching his face for the joke that she knew he was playing. "As friends, if nothing else," he added.

"Mack, I …"

"Please? I'll resort to begging if I have to."

"Um …"

"Ok, look, I've asked now it's up to you to decide. I'll give you till your niece's birthday party to let me know. Ok?" She nodded, watching him get up from his seat. "I'm going to bed now, need my beauty sleep. See you in the morning?"

"Yes, goodnight Mack. Sleep well."

"I will, and you, sweet dreams."

Sophie sat back in her chair, the breath that she'd been unaware of holding escaping from her body, still not quite believing that he'd asked her to join him for dinner. If she said no, then she'd stand no chance with him but if she said yes what kind of signal would that send him. And she wasn't quite sure if she was ready for all that again. Not after what had happened with Jacques. She dabbed at her eyes as they began to well with tears, hating herself for remembering the man that had hurt her the most.

She noticed that Mack had left his laptop. She went over to the computer and sat down in front of it, the cursor blinking in the search box at the top of the internet search engine. She typed in 'James Mackintosh' and hit return. After a few seconds the first page of several thousand appeared and nothing seemed relevant. She added 'Manchester' to the search in order to narrow it down a bit, clicking on the UK pages only to decrease the entries further. The first item opened up to a report in the 'Manchester Evening News' about the new owners of 'Mackintosh Textiles'.

She went back to the engine and searched for 'Mackintosh Textiles+Manchester' bringing up more results but also bringing up the company website. She opened the link and was transported back 5 years. Methodically going through the pages she found out more about the factory in half an hour than she thought Mack would ever impart to her, an idea forming in her head. Putting the screen down on the computer, she was resolved to speak to Mack in the morning. And her answer to his dinner proposal was going to be yes.


	4. Do you like me?

**A/n: Here you go then, 2 chapters in one day – can't be bad. Will have to up the rating from the next chapter, I think as things are going to be hotting up between Mack and Sophie. Please read and review.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own anyone or anything, apart from those characters that are most definitely mine.**

**Chapter 4 – Do you like me?**

The next few days had passed fairly uneventfully, everyone doing their usual tasks, Mack helping out where he could and Sophie spending most of her days painting. She'd attempted to speak to Mack about her ideas but he'd simply told her that until she answered his request he was going to make her wait. When she'd then told him that she was going to accept his kind invitation he suggested that she leave telling him of her ideas until they actually had dinner. Totally perplexed by this display she had warned him that she wasn't the most patient of people only to be told that they would have to wait for dinner until they returned to Villefranche-sur-mer, he wanted it to be special and although Tavernes was encapsulating there wasn't much in the way of excellence. She knew he was teasing her but she was powerless to resist his charms, agreeing that their date would take place as soon as they made the trip back.

Most evenings they were left to their own devices, her brother and his family making excuses to leave the two alone to develop their friendship. And to a point, it had worked. Although they weren't as close as Mack would've liked. They were on good terms and things were only set to get better.

Sophie treated him as if he were an older brother never crossing the line that she'd set herself. Not that she didn't want to. However, every time she felt ready to muddy the waters images of Jacques would take hold and she was unable to take it further.

Soon after they had been left alone by the family again that night, Mack had persistently pestered her about the lessons she still hadn't given him. When she'd finally had enough she tugged out an enormous cushion and battered him over the head with it. "Oh, you shouldn't have done that," he taunted.

"Why not?" She asked batting her eyes and biting her lip.

"Because," he may have been older than her but he moved like greased lightening, catching both of her hands in one of his as he moved over her. His other went to tickle her up her side, over her stomach and under her arms, she shrieked with joy, his touches increasing her state of excitement as he continued mercilessly. He laughed at her as she unsuccessfully tried to get him to stop, he was far too strong for her and she knew that. Finally, she stopped wriggling and looked up into his face, searching his eyes for any kind of indication of how he felt.

Mack allowed his heart to take over, his head falling toward her, his lips searching for hers and finding them. He let go of her wrists, his hands reaching around her shoulders and into her hair as he lingered at her mouth, the tip of his tongue sliding over her lips in order to gain entry. He felt her moan against him as she allowed him the access he sorely needed. His tongue found hers, dancing together with delight as their kiss deepened. Suddenly her hands were on his chest, attempting to prise them apart. His head took over and he pulled back, searching her face for some kind of explanation. "We can't," she simply stated, looking anywhere but at him.

"Why not?" He was puzzled, letting her escape to the other side of the room. "We were having fun."

"That's just it though, its only a bit of fun. How long before it turns into something serious?"

"Sorry, Sophie, but I don't understand your meaning?"

"Mack, it doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does. I really like you."

"You hardly know me." She span around, his look of total confusion not being lost on her.

"I know enough."

She shook her head, "no, Mack. You don't? There are things about me and my life …"

"That I'll find out when the time is right. I'm not bothered about your past, Sophie. Same as you shouldn't be bothered about mine."

"My past is who I am."

"No," she sensed he was getting angry with her, "your past shapes you into who you may become. Sometimes, you just have to say bollocks to it and get on with things." He turned from her and walked out of the house.

She stood still for a moment, shocked at his sudden outburst, before making to tidy up the room. She heard footfall behind her hoping that Mack had returned to her. Turning toward where the noise had come to rest she saw her brother in the doorway. "Come here," he held out his arms to her.

She went to him, tears falling as he cocooned her within his embrace. "Did you hear?"

"Most of it, you know you shouldn't be so hard on yourself?"

"I know, its just with everything that happened …"

"Yes," he whispered against her hair, "I can understand why you're apprehensive, but Mack is right. Sometimes, you do just have to get on with your life."

"But …"

"Sophie, no. Listen to me, I know how much you want what Jenny and I have. I see it on every occasion you spend time with the girls. And what are you going to be like tomorrow, clucking around Maddie just because its her birthday. The thing is you've always been looking in the wrong places for it to happen, and when it finally does you want to spend your life looking the other way because you're afraid that he might actually be right for you. He likes you, a lot. A man knows these things." He nodded knowingly to put emphasis behind his words, pulling her chin up so that she was looking at him, "and I think you like him too. Allow it to happen, Sophie, you might even enjoy it."

"How can I? I'm set for going back out into the fields tomorrow evening."

"Take him with you, I'll find that other tent and then he's got no reason not to have those lessons he's paid for, has he?"

"Ok, I'll ask him. Thanks, bro."

"Just doing my job. Now go, I'll tidy up here."

She kissed him before running from the house and down to the gites she occupied. She slowed as she came to Mack's door, silently listening to see if she could hear anything. The bed creaked slightly as he shifted and she heard him sigh unsure if he was awake or asleep from the level of the tone and frustration. She tiptoed past, as she had done on her early morning arrival the previous week and opened her door as quietly as she could.

After getting ready for bed she turned off all but her bedside light. She sat beneath the covers of her duvet and settled herself against the pillows. She reached over for her sketchbook and pencil, opening it and thumbing through the pages. Her hand instinctively touched each of the drawings that she'd made over the previous few nights, each one a vision of Mack and his eyes that never seemed to stop changing colour.

She opened up to a blank page and closed her own eyes briefly, an image of him just before he was about to kiss her came into her head and her hand began to furtively create the picture that she had envisioned. It wasn't long before he was captured again within her book, her eyes growing heavy as soon as she had finished her work.

.oOo.

Mack had chosen a quiet corner to observe the goings on of a 9 year olds birthday, the screams of elation and sudden outbursts of French had got to him a little bit so he'd decided to nurse his developing headache as far away as he could without being missed. His eyes scanned the courtyard for Sophie, knowing that she would be there somewhere looking after a niece or sorting out the food. He spotted her, talking to an elderly gentleman, her animated chatter evident as she waved her arms about and smiled at her lone audience.

Mack hadn't stayed angry at her for long, in fact it had passed by the time he had got into bed. He'd not let on though, continuing the charade with her over the course of the morning until it was time for her to start the preparations for Madeline's party. He smiled to himself, she really hadn't a clue what she did to him whatever his mood, she only had to flash her eyes at him and his heart was in his mouth.

"Penny for them," he jumped, not only startled by Sophie's voice interrupting his thoughts but by her close proximity. How had she got so close to him so quickly without him even noticing?

"I was just thinking about you." She dropped her head slightly before catching his gaze upon her when she lifted her eyes up again. "That for me?" He asked pointing to the glass in her hand.

She nodded, her hair gently swaying like a curtain over her head as she handed him the drink, "real lemonade. Hope you like it."

He sipped at it, watching her as she positioned a chair next to him and sat down in it. "Lovely, you not having any?"

"Too much sugar."

"Oh," he looked her over appreciatively, "when do you go back? To the fields, I mean?"

"Tonight."

"Oh," his heart sank, "and when will you be back again?"

"In a week or so." She stopped short, unsure of how to ask him to come with her. She remembered his words, _"Sometimes, you just have to say bollocks to it and get on with things."_ "Mack?"

"Mmm," he continued sipping at his drink, eyeing up the party.

"Come with me?"

Mack spluttered and coughed, his latest mouthful of lemonade shooting out of his mouth with the shock of her question. "What the hell are you trying to do to me?"

"I'm sorry, the last thing I wanted was to make you choke." She patted and rubbed his back as he bent over in his chair, still coughing.

He sat back up, his face a picture of disdain. "Last night, you pushed me away."

"I know, I …" He put his hand up to stop her.

"Sophie, you keep confusing me. I don't know if I'm coming or going with you. It's probably best if I stay here, get my head around things, allow you some space."

"I don't want you to give me any space."

"Sophie." His tone was anxious.

She pressed her fingers to his lips. "I'm sorry about last night. I'm afraid of being hurt again and that's why I reacted the way I did. I like you too, Mack. I just don't know if its enough. Come with me, please? Maybe, if its just the two of us without any outside influences I can get over these obstacles I keep putting in my own way. I just need some understanding and patience from you. And we'll be in separate tents."

"Of course, wouldn't want it any other way, I am still a gentleman." She smiled at his remark. "Ok, I'll come with you."

"Sure?"

"Yes, I'd love to."

"Good. You'll be ready to leave by 6?"

"Yes, if that's the time my lady wants me to be ready by, then I have no option but to comply."

.oOo.

After a 40 minute drive north, Sophie and Mack arrived at one of her favourite locations. After parking her car by the old tumbledown barn, they erected the tents close to the lavender rows. As they sat around the fire that Sophie had built, eating a salad that she'd made earlier and drinking tea, Mack chose to say something to lighten the mood. "Haven't been camping in years."

"How long?"

"Over 20 years, went to Newquay with my brother and some of our friends. Had a brilliant time."

"That was when Newquay was lovely, we used to go with Mum and Dad."

"You know Newquay?"

"Quite well, Steven and I were brought up in Devon before our parents died. It was always a favourite holiday destination."

"You ended up here when they died?"

"Yes," a ghost of a smile touched her face.

"How old were you?"

"I was 15, Steven 18. Needless to say he coped better than I did. He went to university, I came here. I loved it but I missed them all so much. For a few weeks I felt like Steven had died too, couldn't wait for him to come here during his holidays."

"Would you miss France?"

"I'm not thinking of leaving."

"But if you had a reason too?"

"Perhaps, but everywhere has its charms. Sometimes I miss Devon, the little hidden away coves that only the locals know about, the moors and their rugged beauty. I'm sure Manchester has some hidden gems."

"The peaks are worth a look but most of the places are run down, small villages and towns that once thrived from industry now derelict because it's too expensive to produce goods in the UK."

"So why would you want to go back and start over?"

"Because what I do works. The company that took over my factory, took over most of the others in the area. Started producing some basic products which are fine for the larger supermarkets but the high end stuff eventually went by the wayside. So there's a gap in the market. Imported products might be cheaper but the quality is terrible and there are still those stores, and ultimately their customers, that want to buy good British products."

"You know, you haven't really sold the north of England to me."

"Wasn't aware that I was supposed to be. Besides why would you want to go? This place is far lovelier than anything the north of England has to offer."

"It would all be part of getting to know you better."

"Then you would have to return the favour, you would have to show me Devon."

She held out her hand, "deal?"

He took it and shook vigorously, "deal."

She yawned looking up to the inky sky above her. Clouds were beginning to form, a breeze had lifted and the moon seemed watery. "Looks like we may be in for a storm, if you get scared you know where I am." She mocked him as she got to her feet, kicking dirt into the fire to put it out. "I'll see you in the morning, otherwise. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Sophie."

As she opened her tent to get in, she looked back at his retreating form as he was getting into his. "Mack? Don't forget to keep your shoes on. We should be ok, we're close to the lavender and we've kept the tents closed up but if a scorpion decides you'll make a great meal he'll not think twice. Check your sleeping bag too."

If there was one thing he couldn't get used to it was the knowledge that he could be killed off in the wilderness by a black insect 4-6 inches in length. "Oh, and if you think you've been bitten call me immediately, Ok?" Sophie called out as an after-thought.

"Yes, I do that," he replied avidly searching the ground for anything that moved. "Night, Sophie."

"Night, Mack. Mind the 'bugs' don't bite."

He'd slept soundly until he'd heard the clatter of thunder off in the distance. He hadn't heard any rain so he felt it must be on its way toward them. Within a few minutes the rain started and not just a normal shower either, a torrid downpour. As he'd kept most of his body inside the covers he was stunned when an unexpected couple of drops of rain fell onto his face. He put on the torch and inspected the canvas above his head. "Shit!" He shouted, sitting up and realising that his tent was acting like a colander.

"Are you ok in there?" He heard Sophie call out.

"No, this tent is pissing in water."

"Shit. You best come over here then." Her voice seemed clearer and closer, she'd obviously opened her tent up. "Is all your bedding soaking?"

"Yes." He crawled out of his tent and quickly made his way over to the car, grabbing his bag and making his way back to Sophie's tent. "I'm bloody soaking too, my clothes are wet through."

She ushered him in, zipping up the door after he'd climbed through the opening. Thankfully her tent was slightly bigger than his and he had the chance to move around a bit more freely even with two bodies in it. "God they are," she said, placing her hands over his clothing to inspect them for herself, "come on, get out of them."

He flashed her his cheeky grin, "gonna help me?"

"I think you're very capable of doing that yourself." She sat back, her arms folded over her chest, never letting her eyes drop from him as he undressed in front of her.

"Even my underwear is soaked," he moaned, "if I didn't know better I'd have thought you'd have done this on purpose."

"I certainly didn't," she said, helping him get a towel and change of clothes from his bag. "But my brother may have."

He looked back to her as he attempted to remove his boxers from underneath the towel. "Was this his idea? Me coming with you?"

She laughed to herself, "not really, but he planted the damn seed. I can turn around you know, if you'd rather I looked away."

"I'm not bothered one way or the other, I'm only shielding myself so that I don't embarrass you."

"I'm not easily embarrassed, I'll have you know. I might even like it." He caught her gaze, she could tell he was silently laughing at her own suggestion. "I said that out loud didn't I?"

He sniggered, "you know you did. Another reason to keep myself hidden from you, once you get a taste for me you might not want to put me down."

"Stop it."

"No, I'm enjoying myself."

"At my expense."

"I'm not going to do it at mine, am I?" He stopped, hoping to hold onto the sneeze that was threatening but he had no luck. "Aitchoo."

"Serves you right."

"What for? Aitchoo."

"For taking the piss. Come on, lets get you wrapped up. You've obviously picked up a chill from the damp." She helped him quickly get dressed in a pair of dark grey jogging pants and a navy fleece pullover, before helping him under the makeshift double bed she'd made with her sleeping bag and blanket.

"Wait, I haven't got my shoes on."

"You don't need them."

"What?"

"I was pulling your leg, Mack."

"Why you little …" He pulled her toward him helping her to scramble in under the blanket beside him. "Is there anything else you feel you should tell me, before I make sure you join me with this cold?"

"I don't think there is." She looked like she was thinking about it, "no, nothing else."

"Good," he pulled her to him, applying the softest rapid kiss he could bring himself to give her before he had to cover his mouth and sneeze again. She giggled, turning in his arms and lying on her back. They counted the storm coming closer, delighted in the lightening as it exposed both of their faces to the other in its ethereal light, cuddled closer as the cooling rain continued to lash down and the wind got stronger. It took a good half hour for it to pass and in that time Mack and Sophie had shared each others joy and anxiety at the prospects of the weather whirling around them outside.

He kissed her once more before she finally turned over and allowed him to spoon his body against her, his arms wrapped around her waist. For the first time in a long time she felt safe and with the most unexpected character of a man she could imagine. She covered his hands with hers and felt his fingers twine around her own. After brushing her hair back from her shoulder, he kissed the exposed skin before replacing his hand where it had come from; holding each other they fell asleep.


	5. She's beautiful to me

**A/n: Smut is definitely coming up in the next chapter so please be patient (rating will go up then). Hope you enjoy this next instalment. Please read and review.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own anyone or anything, apart from those characters that are most definitely mine.**

**Chapter 5 – She's beautiful to me.**

For the first time since taking up residence with the Walker family, Mack awoke of his own volition. No slamming doors, no childish chatter or shrieks, no cockerel to wake him from his state of sleep and he felt refreshed because of it. He may not have been able to soak himself in a bath but that didn't matter to him, he was camping out with Sophieand all he cared about was spending as much time with her as possible.

He crawled from underneath the covers, grabbing his trainers, shaking them out outside the tent and putting them on before stepping out into the glorious sunshine. A note was pinned to the guy rope, he pulled it off and read, '_the bathroom is in the corner of the barn and please bring me a cup of tea when you're sorted, S xxx'_. He reached back into the tent and pulled out his bag and after he'd found his wash kit and a change of clothing, he traipsed over to the barn. He noticed a door in the far corner as he walked through an entrance in the stone walls, looking up to notice that most of the roof had disappeared. The bathroom was in surprisingly good nick and even slightly more surprising was the sight of an 'English' flush toilet. There was no hot water and the cold water chilled him to the bone as he washed in silence. There was no way he was going to have a shave, deciding that he would do that only with warm water after he'd boiled a kettle, if he could be bothered to shave at all.

After returning to the camp, he set a fire going and put on a kettle of water to boil. He went over to his tent and surveyed the mess. Not only had it seeped water, it had blown over as well. "Good job, I never stayed in that, be nursing hypothermia now." He chuckled. He set to work taking it down and put it back in the car, knowing that Sophie wouldn't allow him to spend anymore time in it.

The kettle began to sing as the steam from the boiling water hissed through the nose. He made them both a mug before taking the path he had assumed Sophie would've taken herself. As he reached the brow he noticed her behind her easel, laying paint onto the canvas with a knife. He tried to make as much noise as he could, the last thing he wanted to do was scare her again. Thankfully, she turned toward him as she heard the grass rustle beneath his advancing foot steps. "Good morning," she beamed.

"Morning? Is it still morning?" He joked.

"Just," he handed her a mug, "thanks. You slept well?" He nodded. "I didn't disturb you?"

"No, quite surprised you managed to get away as successfully as you did, how did you manage that?"

"Lots of practice."

"And you couldn't just stay?"

"Although watching you sleep was very pleasurable, I was bored after about 5 minutes."

"I don't know whether to take that as a compliment or not?"

"As you wish, I also didn't think you'd appreciate waking up to me with a maniacal expression on my face."

He stooped to meet her, "that could never happen on your pretty face," he whispered, leaning in closer to kiss her. He felt her smile against his lips as he captured hers and held onto them.

"Ooh, going for the George Michael look are we?" He looked confused, "the stubble?" She ran her hand over the short bristly hair that had sprouted overnight over his cheeks and chin.

"Couldn't bring myself to shave in that icy cold water, I'll boil some water later if you don't like it."

"No, I quite like the feel of it at the moment, I'll vote again in a few days." She giggled, running her hand over the hair again. "Are you ready for your first lesson?" He nodded. "Have you done anything before?"

"Still life's when I was at school and a few portraits but not landscapes."

"I always think of landscapes as large still lives, you just need to decide which part of it you want to paint. Can you see something you like?"

"Besides you?" She coloured at his words, "I like that view back down to the barn."

"Ok, well set yourself up with that stuff over there," she pointed at another easel with a canvas upon it. "I'll be with you in a sec."

He set himself up, positioning the easel where he felt he could get the best picture from and began sketching the relationship of the barn to the gate and the rest of the field. He felt her presence behind him and he turned slightly taking in the approving eye that was roving over what he'd set out. She pointed out an area that needed a little work and together they sorted out the perspective. Sophie pulled out a set of paints, brushes, water pot and a palette. "I thought it would be better for you to start with water colours rather than oils. It's an easier medium to work with, I mean you can change oils by taking them off if you don't like what you've done as they never dry, but watercolours can be fun to work with although they will tend to dry quicker here because of the temperature. Have you used them before?"

"No," he replied, "I always preferred charcoals and pastels to paints."

"Interesting, I learn something new about you every day."

"At least you can't say you're bored of that."

"True. Ok, the first thing with watercolours is to lay out a wash or washes. Pick a common colour for the sky and the field and wash over those colours with the largest brush." He did as he was told; allowing Sophie to give her opinion of how she felt it looked at every stage. "Now we need to build up colour on various things, like the lavender, or the grey of the stonework, the wispy white clouds in the sky." She left him to get on as he applied colours to areas to build up the scene; she inspected his progress from time to time giving pointers if she felt he needed them.

A visit to his side mid afternoon had her speechless as she saw that he'd started to apply detail to the otherwise modernistic piece and encouraged him further with her words, she never criticised and tried to give him helpful suggestions, most of which he agreed with and carried out. By the end of the day he had a picture he was actually quite proud of. He looked back at her picture and commented that he thought she'd done a wonderful job herself, she criticised herself heavily but he just put that down to artistic licence. He always knew what he liked.

After packing away the gear, they went back to their camp and they prepared their dinner together, both famished as they hadn't stopped for any lunch. Sophie produced a bottle of wine from the stream that wound its way along the bottom edge of the field and together they enjoyed a stew with the alcohol. "How long do you intend staying here?" Mack asked.

"Another day or so, then we'll move further up into the mountains."

"The mountains?"

She turned on her patch of ground, lent back against his chest and pointed. "Up there."

"And what's up there?" He nuzzled his nose against her neck, his mouth gently suckling the area where her neck and shoulder met.

"Clean air, gorgeous scenery and total privacy."

"We've got that here." He continued his assault, the alcohol ridding them both of any inhibitions.

"The farmer who owns this land is always around at some time."

"Even when it's dark?"

"Especially when it's dark. Although he always leaves me alone, he knows I'm not going to do any damage to anything." She moaned at his caresses as his hands went around her hips and waist drawing her closer. "Mind you, he came around this morning and we had a little chat."

"So, we'll be left alone." She nodded, "good." He pulled her around to face him and gently let her lay back on the blanket that they were sitting upon. Positioning himself beside her his hand found its way into her hair, brushing through the strands with his fingers as his blue eyes roamed over her face. He cupped her chin as her mouth opened in anticipation of another of his sweet kisses. His thumb slid over her lips and she kissed the tip before catching it in her mouth and tenderly sucking at it. Soon he'd replaced it with his mouth and tongue allowing her to exploit that until he wanted to do the same with hers and coaxed hers into his mouth.

Desire ran through him as he proceeded to run his hands slowly down her body, reaching up to cup each of her breasts and taunt each with his thumbs so that they peaked. "Mack?" She hissed out.

"Mmm?" He asked, still kissing her exposed skin.

"Have you got a …" she breathed heavily as he continued to kiss across her collar bone, "oh god."

"Have I got, what?" He murmured through his kisses.

"A condom?"

"Mmm."

"Mack?"

"Yes, I think so, in my bag." His hands had found their way under her top and were gently caressing her buds through the satin of her bra. He felt her hands move to his chest. He stopped, pulled himself up to look at her and searched her face. "You want me to find one?"

"Yes please, I don't think this relationship is ready for a pregnancy just yet, do you?"

"You're asking the wrong partner that question," she slapped his arm and he got up to search his bag. He pulled out his stuff, methodically searching for the illusive item; he went through the outer pockets, the inner pocket, and his wallet. "Shit."

"What's wrong?" She was sat up, leaning back on her hands. The she realised, "you can't find one." She watched him slowly shake his head. "It's ok."

"Is it? For 5 years I've never failed to have at least one on me, but …"

She went over to him, kneeling behind him and throwing her arms around his torso. "But?"

"But, I don't know, I really wanted this to happen."

She circled him, taking his face in her hands, "it will, soon, and it will be fantastic. This is just a sign that we should wait, that's all. Besides, I don't want this relationship to just be about sex, I want this to be about love. Don't you?"

"Yes, you're right. It'll be worth the wait. You'll be worth the wait." He kissed her, "I'm still alright holding you at night though aren't I," he teased.

"I'd be offended if you didn't. Mack?"

"Mmm?"

"I'm falling for you."

"Yeah?" Mack wasn't surprised by her statement as he watched her nod her head. "Me too."

.oOo.

As the days passed, Mack's frustration grew. He wanted Sophie more and more and holding her at night whilst she slept certainly wasn't helping matters. When the day arrived for them to go back to the farm he was happy and when they then decided that they should go back to Villefranche-sur-mer he was even happier to get back.

He'd arranged to meet her at her favourite restaurant and as soon as he'd walked through the entrance he noticed her already seated at a table for just the two of them. 'Very intimate and very romantic,' he thought, as he took in the immediate vicinity to it. She stood up as she noticed him and waved him over. She was in black, as usual, but, to his surprise, she was wearing a dress.

He walked toward her, noticing how the deep crossover V neckline intersected just at the top of her cleavage, a sparkling pin keeping the fabric together so it wouldn't gape apart. The sleeves were slightly puffed and they were pulled in with elastic just around the top of each arm. Elastic pulled the fabric in slightly under her bust line and the skirt fell away from this, floating down and around her thighs touching just above her knee. Her legs were dressed in what he hoped were very sheer glossy stockings and her feet were encased in black suede sling backs with a kitten heel. She'd pulled her hair on top of her head into a loose knot allowing some to fall back down in feathery wisps. She'd even applied make-up to her usually nude face, using smoky tones to accentuate her eyes and brows that framed them. Her cheeks were swept with burnished bronze and her lips were dark plum.

"You're stunning," he managed when he reached her; a hand went to her face drawing her up for one of his kisses. "I'm very lucky."

He noticed red appearing under the bronze of her cheeks, "Thank you." She stammered.

"For what? For me being truthful?"

They sat opposite one another whilst she tried to find the right words. "I've never been treated with so much respect, Mack. I'm just not used to it."

"Well you better, because I'm not going to stop telling you how beautiful you are, or how good you make me feel."

"I don't think I ever could get used to it."

"I think you need to tell me about how other boyfriends have treated you because I can only imagine treating you the utmost care and attention." He took her hands in his, his thumbs circling over her soft skin. "Sophie, all I want is to make you happy, look after you and be allowed to love you as much as you deserve, if not more." He knew she was about to respond with a put down for herself but he wouldn't let her. "I realised today, when I got back to my boat, that I could quite happily live without all of that, without luxury and filling my home with the latest things as long as I was with you. I don't want to live without you. In fact, I love you."

"Mack, I … I'm speechless."

"Then don't say anything, just take on board what I'm telling you. I love you and I want to make you mine."

She smiled at him, still trying to unravel what he was saying to her and not quite believing it all the same. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why me?"

"I'm not sure; you've never demanded or expected anything of me, you just allowed me to get close to you, eventually. I really thought you hated me."

"Not you, Mack. How could I? It may have taken me a little while to see beyond the yacht and the money but you are a wonderful man who has given my family and I so much, without even thinking about it and no strings attached. But that wasn't what I really meant."

"What did you mean, then?"

"I'm not exactly the most beautiful looking woman in the world or the thinnest."

"I've had the trophy wife, Sophie and believe me, they're overrated and very expensive. And I've had 5 years of getting that all out of my system, they're only good for one thing and you're too much of a lady for me to tell you exactly what that thing is. Besides you do have beauty and it's something that no one can take away from you because it's buried so deep inside of you that it wouldn't matter if you lost your looks. And, to me, you look fantastic; better, in fact, than anyone I've ever slept with. You really don't have a clue what those eyes of yours do to me when they're looking at me in much the same way as they are now."

"Am I … you know … turning you on?" She whispered, sounding like a schoolgirl instead of the 35 year old woman that she was.

He nodded, his eyes twinkling with his acknowledgement, "and as for the amount of cleavage I'm getting an eyeful of at the moment, I just hope I can get through dinner unscathed." Subconsciously, her hand went to the V and pulled it up. He chuckled to himself, reached across the table and pulled it back down. "Don't mess with perfection," he warned her.

She held his gaze for what seemed like ages only for it to be interrupted by the waiter wondering what they would like to eat. They ordered quickly and wine was brought over to them, the waiter's attention of Sophie not going unnoticed by Mack. As soon as they were alone again, he picked up the conversation again. "See, even the waiter can't take his eyes off you."

"Don't be daft."

"No, seriously. And don't you dare," he motioned to her hand that had travelled up to the V again. "Do not spoil my fun, or his. Don't you like being appreciated?"

"I'm not used to it, Mack. It makes me a little uncomfortable."

"Who the hell did this to you?" Concerned flashed across his face.

"What do you mean?"

"Sophie, if you really looked at yourself, you'd see exactly what I and that waiter both see. A gorgeous, bright, smart individual who may carry a few more pounds than is deemed suitable by the media but is proud and happy of her shape as much as the man that love's her. I've made some pretty bad mistakes in the past and I'm not going to make them again. You are lovelier than even I imagined you were and I'm so looking forward to seeing your magnificent body naked and having the opportunity to kiss every last inch of your silky smooth skin."

"Charmer," she coyly mocked him.

He shrugged, "maybe, a little. But I only have the greatest respect for you; you only have to tell me when you're ready for me to do that to you."

"How about now?" She giggled, "No, wait; just give me till after dinner. Can't do that on an empty stomach, can I?

"Well, I wouldn't advise it and it is so nice, at last, to have dinner with a woman that has a healthy appetite instead of one that eats like a bird."

"I aim to please."

"Just let me do the aiming later."

She slapped him on the arm, "cheeky."

"I aim to please!" He exclaimed, wriggling his eyebrows and earning himself another slap. The food arrived and as they ate conversation turned to the food and other subjects. Mack was glad; at least it meant the heat he was feeling between them would be allowed to settle for a little whilst giving him the opportunity to calm himself down.

Sophie began to ask about the vineyard and how he saw it going for the family. He was glad to be involved in his small way and hoped that he had given them enough to finally get themselves back on their feet. They discussed what Steven and Jenny had done about hiring someone and how they'd got bookings for the gites, whilst Sophie and Mack had been out in the fields. Things were already positive and now Sophie wanted to discuss her own ideas. "Mack?" Sophie asked, sipping at the dessert wine and eating her chocolate mousse.

"Yeah?" He offered her some of his crème brule, never taking his eyes off her mouth as she took the creamy sweet into her mouth, swallowed and licked her lips. Desire lit up his loins once more as he watched her dip a strawberry into her mousse and devour that too.

"That night you showed me the website?"

"Yeah, when you tried to break it.

"Yeah. Well, after you'd gone to bed I looked you up on the internet."

"I know. You left the page open. For someone with a lot of intelligence you didn't show much then."

She held up her hands. "Ok, busted."

"Why were you looking me up?" He quizzed her.

"I just wanted to see what the set up was like, for the factory. You see when you'd told me about wanting to start over with some designer stuff it sparked off an idea. So I did a little research."

"So you didn't just want to know my inside leg measurement then?"

"Stop teasing me," she smiled at him, watching him beam. "Well, I got to thinking."

"Are you ever going to tell me what your idea is?"

"Yes, if you'll let me. What if …" He prompted her with his head, "what if I designed them, the bedding?"

"What?"

"Well, I had a thought about using some of my existing pictures and turning part of that into a design, and then perhaps we could use machine embroidery on the bedding, sew on beads, sequins. Just a thought, and then team them up with some of the existing products, that way there isn't so much investment and greater return."

Mack looked around him, "can the real Sophie come back please?"

"Mack. I'm serious."

"I know. You're not just a pretty face are you? I knew you were gifted but I never imagined you had a head for business as well. I just imagined that you left that to Steven because you didn't know enough yourself to help out with that."

"I left it to Steven because I was rarely around that's all. Obviously, they'd wait for me if there was a financial matter but generally I let them get on with it."

"And continued to put your money into the pot."

"They never stopped me having anything I needed although I live as cheaply as I can; my studio was bequeathed to me by a friend of my grandfather's. He had no family of his own and decided I would be glad of it. I was. So what do you think?"

"I think it's a great idea, I'd like to see some designs first though."

"I've got some with me."

"How did you find time to do them?"

"Mostly when you were asleep, got the bug one morning and sketched a few ideas down."

"You amaze me, show me in a bit then, let's get out of this restaurant first. Then amaze me again, say yes."

"What for? Why?"

"Just say it."

She hesitated but realised there would be a good reason behind it. "Yes."

"Thank you." He paid the waiter as he got up from his seat, holding his arm out for her. She took it and they strolled from the restaurant out onto the street.

"Where are we going?"

"Got the designs with you, you said?" She nodded, "good, you said 'yes', remember. You are at my mercy."

"Mack?"

"Be quiet or am I going to have to make you."

She knew what that meant. "Make me?" He obliged, taking her head between his hands and kissing her plum painted lips. Her hands found their way around his neck as both moaned at the other's touch. They drew apart, both panting at the sudden urgency their embrace had caused.

"Come on," he said, taking her hand in his and walking a little quicker. She thought she'd better not ask again on where they were going deciding to just go with the flow. She knew that the man that she was with would never hurt her, emotionally or physically. She trusted him with all of her heart and if it meant that she should just go along with what he wanted then so be it, who was she to argue. The most wonderfully gifted, gracious, handsome man wanted to spend his time with her, something she was still having a hard time believing.

As soon as they turned the corner from the church she knew where they were going, to his boat. Not like he could take her anywhere else that was his anyway and it wasn't like she was set against the idea, not now she knew the kind of man he was. They walked along the jetty, the boats swaying with the slowly flowing current, bells tinkling, ropes pulling and stretching before relaxing again. Finally, they reached the yacht and he jumped aboard, he held his hands out to her and as she put hers in his she jumped across the small gap into his waiting arms.

"Are you warm enough?"

"Yes, thanks."

"Make yourself comfortable then." She sat on one of the seats in the stern, waiting for him to join her but he didn't. He jumped back and unhooked the ropes before climbing back on board and sitting behind the wheel. He turned the key and set the boat in motion, allowing it to slowly move through the harbour and out into the channel, before turning the engine off, setting the sail of the boat and allowing the gentle breeze to take them on their way. He sat behind her, keeping a hand on the tiller as his arm lazily threaded around her shoulders.

"Considering my only means of escape will render me very wet, do you think you'd like to tell me where we're going?"

"Corsica."

"Corsica? But that's 5 and a 1/2 hours by ferry."

"We're sailing."

"I realise that."

"Which means it will take longer."

"I realise that, too. I am an intellectual, after all."

"At this wind speed it should take us about 7 hours, to the little remote bay I've picked out for the two of us anyway."

"And what will we do when we get there?"

"Sleep, I should imagine. For a little while anyway, it's 10 now, so we'll get there about 5. Will you stay awake with me?"

"I'll do my best, might need to get some coffee though."

He pointed in front of him. "The galley is just through that door and down the steps, be my guest. Are you sure you're warm enough?"

"It's a bit colder out here, I'm ok for a minute but I'll go and get a blanket when I get us both a drink."

"Is this your first time sailing?"

"Yes," she nodded, "I'm actually quite enjoying it. I didn't know what to expect but it's great."

"Good, I'd like to think that it was because of me that you have the widest grin on your face."

"I'm sure that's not going to be the first time you do that to me. Right I'm going to get a blanket and some coffee for us both."

"Ok, don't be too long." She got up from her seat and walked over to the door that led inside. "I'm already missing you." She heard him call.

She walked around the quarters, not quite believing how spacious it was. She went over to the galley and put some water on to boil, before deciding to go and find a blanket for them to keep warm. The door nearest her led into a small cabin that Mack was using for storage. She turned and noticed another, sitting to the left of the steps. She crossed the space to it and opened it up, switching on the light. She stopped; there was her picture, the one she'd given him. She remembered their conversation in the garden when he had been digging over the vegetable plot. When he said he'd put it over his bed she hadn't actually expected him to mean this one, 'but where else would he put it,' she thought, 'this is the only bed he owns at the moment.'

She looked under the bed and pulled out a drawer, she noticed a couple of blankets and pulled them out, still smiling about the picture. She looked at it again, he was right it was good and didn't need any adjustment; she was too hard on herself sometimes. On closing the door she heard the kettle boiling and sorted out their drinks before taking the two cups and blankets up on deck. She caught him smiling profusely, "What's up?"

"Nothing," he replied. "Come here and keep me warm."

.oOo.

As soon as he was sure Sophie was well out of the way, Mack picked up her bag and pulled out the book that was in it. He thumbed through the pages hoping to come across her designs but as the book fell open he was mesmerised and enchanted by the images that he saw. It was like looking into a mirror as page after page contained another image of him. She'd told him she didn't draw portraits but these were remarkable and each one had caught him in a pose that she obviously wanted to remember him by. He couldn't help but smile. How was it that she could just continue to keep amazing him?

He heard her beginning to come back on top and he quickly put the book back where he'd found it, the smug grin still stuck on his face.

"What's up?" She asked him, her eyes searching his face for an explanation, one that he wasn't ready to give away just yet. He'd have fun with that tomorrow.

"Nothing, come here and keep me warm."

She did as she was bid, handing him the drinks as she retook her seat next to him and pulled one blanket around them both to start with. He handed her a cup and she gratefully sipped on the creamy brown fluid, leaning back against him as she did. "This is lovely, I really can't think of anywhere else I'd rather be. Thank you, Mack."

He silently thanked whichever God was allowing him to be this happy, secretly hoping that it was never going to be taken from him. "Nor could I, Sophie."


	6. A Corsican affair

**A/n: Please read and review.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own anyone or anything, apart from those characters that are most definitely mine.**

**Chapter 6 – A Corsican affair**

Sophie woke to the gentle rocking of the boat and the faint smell of bacon and eggs. Her stomach responded with a groan of hunger and she pulled herself out from under the dark blue covers that she had been cocooned in. She looked down at her still clothed body as she ran her hands through her tangled hair and inspected herself in the mirror that was attached to the back of the door.

"Afternoon gorgeous," Mack encouraged, as she came out of the cabin. She noticed the ruffled blanket on the bench and looked up at him. "You looked so comfortable the last thing I wanted to do was move you and wake you up."

"You haven't got a comb or anything have you?"

"Yes, in the bathroom, there's a carrier in there with a few essentials for you." She smiled, as she went into the cubicle that acted as a shower come bathroom.

After inspecting the items in the bag she popped her head around the door, "If I didn't know any better I'd have said you'd planned this little excursion."

"Whatever gave you that idea? Have a shower if you want?"

"I'll pass at the minute, far too hungry. Might faint in here butt naked from lack of nourishment, then where would I be?"

"On the floor of the shower butt naked, of course. And I'd have to rescue you."

"Maybe I'll give you that opportunity later, but for now I think I'll pass. Will have a quick wash though and be with you soon."

"Ok, take you're time. This food won't be long but I can keep it warm for you. Cup of tea?"

"Yes, please," came the reply from the bathroom. "Ouch!"

"What's up?"

"All these damn tangles in my hair."

Mack turned the heat down under the food and went to her, pulling her out of the confines of the bathroom and seating her on the bench. He took the comb from her hand and began unsnarling the knots gently as the comb ran through her hair. "You're very good at this." She delighted at his soft touches.

"Had a lot of practice," he countered, "always had girlfriends with long hair, made me feel like they'd want me to do it for them forever. Not that they ever did."

"I do, I can't believe how good it's making me feel. You're so gentle."

"Glad I can be of service, there you go, all done." He handed the comb back to her, "you gonna brush your teeth then?"

"Aye, aye, captain." She saluted him before disappearing back into the bathroom.

"Bloody cheek," he muttered, "get your arse out here pronto, breakfast will be served in 5 seconds."

She was back, grinning; face clean, teeth fresh and hair tidy. She'd sorted out her dress and it clung to her figure again as it had the night before. "That's better, thank you, Mack. For thinking about these things. Don't suppose you bought me any clean underwear."

"Not yet, would've done had I known your size. You can always borrow some of mine."

"I'll be ok; we'll be going back later won't we?"

"Actually, I thought we could stay here for a few days, one reason I anchored off Bastia. We can get a few bits and then go around to that cove I was telling you about last night."

Her arms went around his neck and she pulled him to her. "You really do think of everything, don't you?"

"I try. Now come on, get this food down your neck. Sooner we eat the sooner we can get on."

They spent some time wandering around the shops and local market, buying their supplies. Mack secretly spied the sizes of clothing and underwear that Sophie was purchasing, making a mental note and rushing off to buy a few items himself for her whilst she was in the changing room trying a few things on. He'd had everything gift wrapped so there was no way she was going to know what he'd bought until he'd presented her with them.

Once they'd got back to the boat, he'd set sail whilst she'd showered and changed, coming back atop as soon as she'd finished. It wasn't long before they anchored in the private cove that he'd decided upon for them and he was ready to present her with his first gift. He'd disappeared for a little while down below and when he reappeared he was only wearing a pair of shorts. "Are you coming in?" He asked, looking at the clear azure blue water.

"No, you go."

"Why not, it's going to be glorious in there?"

"I can't."

"Why?"

"I don't have a swimming costume for one thing and besides I wouldn't feel comfortable."

"It's only me."

"I'd especially not feel very comfortable in front of you."

"Sophie, we talked about this last night. And does that mean you wouldn't accept a gift from me."

"What gift?"

"This one," he handed her the package, watching her intently as she tore the bright paper apart and pulled out the two pieces. He'd thoughtfully purchased her a tankini, the top long enough to act as a vest and the bottoms were like shorts. The suit was turquoise in colour. At least, he thought with relief, she'd smiled.

"Thanks," her hands fondled the material of the two piece. "I'll just go and change."

She was soon back on deck, delighted that the suit actually made her appear slimmer. "You look great," he smiled at her, his eyes roving her fairly scantily clothed body. She moved toward him quickly taking him into her embrace and kissing him. His hands were at her waist, his fingers splayed over the round of her bottom. She flinched slightly at his touches; it wouldn't have taken much for him to find his way beneath the shorts and touch her skin. She began willing it; however he pulled back and walked with her to the side of the yacht. "Let's have a swim." He dove in off the side and patiently trod water whilst he waited for Sophie to join him.

Not used to doing anything in water, she slowly edged into the inviting blue sea and took her time swimming over to him. They swam in toward the beach so that she was able to touch the bottom with her feet. He began playing with her, splashing her, swimming around her and pulling her down into the water. She laughed and giggled at him as he began to tickle her and she fought back as best she could.

Mack swam up to her under the water, grabbing on to her legs and coming up out through the waves in front of her. He was so close to her that she nearly fainted at his proximity, her hands instinctively found his and she steadied herself against the heady excitement she was feeling. Her eyes went up to his and all she could see was the desire behind them. He scooped her up in his arms and walked from the water, settling her down onto the wet sand, with him by her side, the swirling waves lapping at their feet.

With one of his arms behind her head, cushioning it, his free hand went up to her hair and smoothed it back, his deep blue orbs searching her face for any kind of resistance. He saw none and decided that he wanted to kiss her, to taste the salt on her lips. He bent down, applying the lightest of butterfly kisses to her lips, licking at them, his hand holding her head and sliding down to her exposed shoulder, his thumb drawing circle over her skin. His leg hooked over her own and she could feel his arousal against her leg. She froze.

"What's up?" Mack asked her, drawing away from her, he was so sure that she'd wanted him.

"Not here, please."

"Why?" His question whispered.

"Just in case we're seen." She pleaded.

"We won't be seen here, love. The only way you can get to this cove is by boat, that's why I chose it."

"Oh, really. So you thought that a little sunshine and a private cove would have me dropping my knickers for you quicker than you could say 'Sangria'." She pushed him away from her, getting to her feet and paddling through the water away from him.

"Sophie," he appealed to her better nature, he hoped. Catching up with her, he put his arms on her shoulders and stopped her. He turned her toward him, his thumb on her chin bringing her face up toward him. "Sophie, I'm sorry. I really thought you were ready."

"I am. I'm sorry, Mack. I'm just not very comfortable, out here, in the open. You, seeing all my wobbly bits."

"Oh," he smiled, "so that's what this is all about."

"No, did you bring protection this time?" His eyebrows shot skyward, He'd learnt from his last experience with her and he wasn't going to do that again. He fished in his zipped pocket and pulled out three packets. "Steady on, tiger." She blushed at her own remark.

A hand went to her cheek, rubbing at the red glow. "Come on, I'll race you back to the boat. I'll cook and you can get showered and changed. Fair deal?"

She nodded, "Mack? I do want this to happen; I do want you to make love to me."

"You just want it to be in the dark away from prying eyes." She nodded again, "I'll soon have you turned into a wanton hussy. When you can't get enough of me, we'll be having sex everywhere." He kissed her forehead before running and diving into the waves, swimming for the boat. He stopped and turned back to her as she walked back through the surf. "By the way," he called to her, "last one to the boat has to be the other's sex slave."

She laughed, knowing there was no way she was ever going to make it back before him with her meagre breast stroke. He waited for her, letting her swim past him and up to the boat. He followed behind her helping her get out of the water and into the boat. She watched him pull himself up onto the boat, the rippling muscles under his skin making her insides churn. "I do believe, Mr Mackintosh, you let me win."

"Really, Miss Walker. I think you'll find I got cramp in my leg and so you used that to your advantage. Besides," he drew her to him, "I want our first time to be special, you set the rules and take charge, I am your humble servant."

.oOo.

As the evening drew on and the dinner and wine were digested, Sophie could think of nothing else than to get Mack out of the dark navy shirt and black shorts he was wearing. They were sat above deck in each other's arms, watching the moon twinkle against ...

A/N: in order to continue reading this story please go to 'adult fan fiction .net' and find under Archive - Miscellaneous TV programs - Het – Male/Female - Starting Over Again. Thank you


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